LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

?.A<?#4*^" 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PLAIN LECTURES 



ON THE 



Dt 



iLGRiM's Progress, 



ROBERT NOURSE. 



/: 



-10 



U§'^ 



SPRINGFIELD. ILL.: 

H. W. KOKKEIJ, PIBLISHEK. 

1S78. 



/S78 



Knteied aceording to Act of Congress, in the year 1878. 

BY KOBEKT NOVKSE. 

in the offlce of Lilnuriau of Congress, at Washington. All rights reserved. 



DEDICATION. 



TO MY SAINTED MOTHER. 
Wlio. in my earlier years, guided me into the 

WAY OF RIOHTKOrSNKSS, 

And to 

MV (U.ORIFIED CHILD. 

AVlu) is one of my chief attractions ti) tlie 

cKKKsriAi. cirv. 

rhis N'olume is lovingly and reverently dedicated, 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



ERRATA. 

Page 38, line 8 from top, for immortal read immoral. 

Page 42, line 7 from bottom, for Arguntin read Augustine. 

Page 42, line 3 from bottom, for Corpe7-nicns read' Copernicus. 

Page 57, line 17 from top. for possess read possesses. 

Page 63, line 19 from top, for accomplishes read accomplish. 

Page 115, line 13 from top insert of alter think. 

Page 202, line 3 from top, insert call after shall. 

Page 330, line 2 from top, read hoio for hows. 

Page 287, line 13 from bottom, for has read hast. 

For Presum,ptious TeB,d presionptuous, wherever fouml. 

For harbour read arbour in Lecture 9. 



PREFACE. 



The following lectures are substantially those which I deliv- 
ered on Sabbath evenings in the city of Springfield, Illinois, 
during the winter months of iS/z-'/S. 

I have added fresh literary material to the first Lecture, in the 
hope that it may meet the need of Clerical Brethren, who may 
wish to deliver a similar course, but who possessing small libra- 
ries themselves, and living too far from city libraries, are unable 
to consult authorities or collate opinions on the subject. It is 
thought that sufficient has been brought together in this way 
to enable any brother to form an independent estimate of John 
BuNYAN, his book, and its influence. 

The reader will doubtless discover a difference in the style of 
the later lectures. This is owing to the fact that they were 
stenographically reported by Mr. Volney Hickox. The earlier 
ones are re-composed from my manuscript notes and from re- 
ports which appeared in the Illinois State Journal. 

In delivering these Lectures I used as text-book an edition of 
"Pilgrim's Progress," published by Cassell, Petter & Galpin. 
For the purpose, I knew of no better one. The Allegory is 
admirably arranged in chapters, the typography exceedingly 
clear, the notes by Rev. Robert Maguire very suggestive, 
while the illustrations are so true to the conceptions of Bunyan 



vi. Preface 

as to afford in themselves a valuable commentary on "The 
Immortal Dream." 

It was my habit to read a chapter, as there arranged, in lieu 
of the Scripture lesson, and I have the satisfaction of knowing 
that, in the opinion of one little girl at least, the "story book" 
was "splendid." 

The "Synopses of Chapters" preceding the following Lectures 
do not give the contents of the Lectures, but are abbrevia- 
tions of the chapters read, and intended to give the reader 
the pith of the story. 

I have not intentionally plagiarized the words or thoughts of 
other men. Where I have used their thoughts or words, I 
have made acknowledgment in the usual manner. No doubt if 
certain authors honor these Lectures with a reading, they will 
find much that they have written. I hope that they will feel 
complimented by the resurrection of their works in this way. 

Such as it is, I commit this little production to the cause of 
God and man, with the humble prayer that it may be acceptable 
to Him whose I am, and whom I serve — a blessing to those 
who are living in the City of Destruction, and a comfort to 
those, who, like myself, hope to reach the Celestial City. 

"The Book is written. Much is left unsaid; 
Much said amiss; 
Some pages, bluned with tears, can scarce be read; 

What's left.? Why, this. 
To learn the lessons which are graven there." 

Anon. 



LIST OF SUBJECTS 



PAtJE. 

1. JOHN BUNYAN AND HIS IMMOKTAL ]>REAM, - - - 9 

2. THE PILGRIM STARTS FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION, - - 25 

3. THE SLOI'GH OF DESPOND, ----- 40 

4. MR. WORLDLY-WISEMAN, .._-_. r.3 

5. THE WICKET-GATE, - . _ _ . _ (;.) 

6. THE INTERPKKTER'S HOUSE, - - - _ . 80 

7. THE CROSS, ------ 94 

8. THE HILL DIFFICULTY, - - - - - - 104 

9. THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL, - - - - - lis 

10. APPOLVON, . _ - - - - ^ 130 

11. CONFLICTS, - - - - - - - - 14,s 

12. FAITHFUL, - - - - - - - - 1C3 

13. TALKATIVE, ------ 179 

14. VANITY FAIR, - - - - - - - 192 

15. THE HILL LUCRE, ------ 206 

16. DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR, - - - - 217 

17. THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, - . - - - 234 

18. THE ENCHANTED GROUND, - - - - - - 249 

19. IGNORANCE, FEAR, AND TEMPORARY, - - - - 264 

20. THE CELESTIAL CITY, - - - - - . - 280 



'Doubt and discuss, examine and believe: 
But, if thy judgment falter, turn with trust 
Unto the staff our ancient guides relied on. 
And paths that in the wilderness bear 
The pilgrim's track. If thine own wisdom fail thee. 
Put confidence in wisdom tried by Time." 

Sir Aubrey de Vere. 



LECTURE I 



JOHN BUNYAN 

AND HIS 

IMMORTAL DREAM, 



" Would'st see 
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?" 

" He being dead yet spealieth." Heb. 11 : 4. 

"Jesus spake unto the multitudes in parables, and without a parable spake he not 
unto them." Matt. 1.3 : 34. 
" Ah Lord God ! they say of me, Doth he not speak parables?" Ezekiel 20 : 49. 



THE BOOK, upon which I shall discourse for several success- 
ive Sabbath evenings, is thought by some of the best literary- 
judges to be one of the most remarkable productions in ex- 
istence. 

The Pilgrim's Progress is read by English speaking people 
more than any other book, except the Bible. It has a circula- 
tion next to it in numbers, and is regarded by the devout with 
a sanctity only second to that which they feel towards the Word 
of God. It has been translated into every European language, 
and portions of it into Pagan tongues. It is a favorite with 
men and children.* You may find cheap copies of it in the 
saddle-bags of the prairie wanderer, the knapsack of the sol- 

* The object of this production, it is hardly necessary to say, is to give an allegorical 
view of the life of a Christian, his difliculties, temptations, encouragements and ultimate 
triumph ; and this is done with such skill and graphic elfeetthat the book, though on the 
most serious subjects, is read by children vnth nearly as much pleasure as fictions jirofessedty 
lorittenfor their amusement, — Chambkbs. 
2 



lo Lecture I. 

dier, the locker of the sailor, and the trunk of the servant girl. 
Did I say cheap? Well, they are so, if mothers' tears and pray- 
ers are cheap ;, but if they are sacred and precious, so are the 
books, for mothers place them there with prayers and tears. 
You may also find well-worn copies of it in the study of schol- 
ars and men of letters. Again, it may be found bound in vel- 
lum, embossed with gold, enriched with ornament, decorated by 
art, hard by the throne of kings. Its early editions are among 
the treasures of nations. For a copy of the first edition an as- 
sembly of rulers would halt in its ordinary business and bid a 
price for its possession. 

And yet what is it? Simply the relation of a man's expe- 
rience arising out of his endeavors to live a true Christian life. 
These experiences are covered with allegory. They are narra- 
ted under the form of a pilgrimage, and in such a way that 
whenever the book is read, and by whomsoever, the meaning 
is seen and felt, notwithstanding the parable. He writes as 
though he dreamed it, and this, says Lord Macaulay, "is the 
highest miracle of genius that the dreams of one man should be- 
come the experience of others." 

We are naturally curious about this man. What manner of 
man is he ? If scholars sit at his feet, we think he must be 
learned. If genius and philosophy crown him as a literary 
king, he must be great. If men and women feel this book to 
be the dream of their lives ; if the old find it to be a record of 
their sweet and bitter memories ; if the young find in it safe 
directions to the "Strait Gate" and the "Celestial City;" if it be 
one of the first books a young convert will read and the last he 
will lay aside — we think that a study of the life and character 
of its author is likely to profit us. 

John Bunyan was born at Elstow, Bedfordshire, England, in 
the year 1628; a child of the poor and the low. His father 
was a traveling tinker,* and John became one. Generally this 
class are quite ignorant and unprincipled. They live profess- 



* "For my descent then it was, as is well known by many, of a low and inconsiderable 
generation ; my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most desi»ised of 
all the families of the land."— Bunyan, 



The Dreamer. i i 



edly by their trade, but really much more by poaching and pil- 
fering.* It may be said of them that they have no abiding city, 
although I fear it cannot be uttered with equal truth that they 
"desire a better country — that is a heavenly." 

But Bunyan, senior, appears to have possessed a little more 
sense than usual with his fraternity, for we find Bunyan, junior, 
at school in early life, where he learned to spell, and probably 
to write. These accomplishments appear to have been neg- 
lected.'! I should say that the lad, from his earliest memory, 
had conviction of sin. At the age of ten he was subject to re- 
ligious terrors. This is due partly to the theology of his day, 
which required a sinner to be well beaten by the pedagogue law, 
as a prerequisite to his finding peace in Christ, and partly to his 
vivid imagination. He was always ruled by his impressions. 
His dreams and imaginations were facts to him. So sensitive 
was he, that on one occasion, thinking the devil struck at him 
with sharp claws, he adds, in apparent sincerity, that he felt them 
strike into his flesh. It appears to me that at this time, and for 
years subsequent thereto, he was a religious monomaniac. 

He grew up a very profane] | young man, so much so that a 
woman of loose character reproved him, saying that his lan- 

* Sir Thomas Overbury thus quaintly describes them : " The tinlcer is a movable, for 
lie hath no abiding in one place ; he seems to be devout, for his life is a continual pil- 
grimage, and sometimes, in humility goes barefoot, therein making necessity a virtue ; 
he is a gallant, for he carries all his wealth ujjou his back ; or a philosopher, for he bears 
all his substance with him. He is always furnished with a song, to which his hammer 
keeping time, proves that he was the first founder of the kettle-drum ; where the best 
ale is, there stands his music most upon crotchets. The companion of his travels is some 
foul, sun-burnt quean, that, since the terrible statute, has recanted gypsyisni, and is 
turned pedlaress ; so marches he all over England with his bag and baggage. His con- 
versation is irreprovable, for he is always mending. He observes truly the statutes, and 
therefore would rather steal than beg. He is so strong an enemy of idleness, that in 
mending one hole, he would rather make three than want work ; and when he lias done 
he throws the wallet of his faults behind him. His tongue is very voluble, which, with 
canting, proves him a linguist. He is entertained in every place, yet enters no farther 
than the door, to avoid suspicion. To conclude, if he escape Tybury or Banbury ,t he dies 
a beggar." — Whittiei-'s Prose Works, vol. i, j). 209. 



t Two noted places where criminals were hanged. 



if'Though to my shame I confess I did soon lose that I had learned, even almost utterly ; 
and that long before the Lord did work a gracious work of conversion upon my soul." 
Bunyan. 

li "It was my delight to be taken captive by the devil. I had few equals, both for curs- 
ing and swearing, lying and blasphemy."— Bunyan. 



12 Lecture I. 

guage made her tremble. He tells us that he was guilty of 
breaking every command of the decalogue, but whether this is 
to be taken in a theological or literal sense, I hardly know — 
for Macaulay affirms that when he was charged with particular 
sins, he denied them. 

He enumerates other delinquencies, such as dancing, tip-cat, 
bell-ringing, and reading Sir Bevis of Southampton. His views 
were imaginary, as well as real. You see he takes his idea of sin 
from society, as well as from the Word of God. 

He regarded himself as the subject of special Providences. 
About this time we find him in the parliamentary army at the siege 
of Leicester, as Carlyle says, "living out the Pilgrim's Progress 
with a matchlock on his shoulder." Here a comrade volun- 
teered to take his place in the line, and was shortly after shot 
dead. This remarkable preservation made a deep impression 
on his mind as well as on others. 

On his return home he gave up bell-ringing, tip cat playing, 
dancing, swearing, and novel reading. Did I say gave them up? 
He tried honestly to do so, but learned swiftly and sorely that 
the hardest thing any poor sinner can do is to give up his sins 
and break from his habits. Until the sin of the heart is taken 
away by the Lamb of God, and the soul is filled with the Holy 
Ghost, there can be no giving up. The heart can not remain 
empty. God, nature and man abhor a vacuum. A man is not 
saved by merely giving up his sins, but by giving himself up to 
Christ to receive Christ. 

But behold the man who has given up bell-ringing, going up 
the belfry steps to watch his old companions pull the ropes. 
See the change on his face as he thinks a bell may fall and dash 
life from his body. He moves away to the church-yard only to 
imagine the steeple may fall on him. From thence to the vil- 
lage green to bury his fears, convictions and resolves in the 
excitement of tip-cat. * He is about to strike, when he is sud- 
denly arrested by a voice from heaven saying, "John Bunyan, 
wilt thou cleave to thy sins and go to hell, or wilt thou leave 

* A game similar to "hoclvcy." 



The Dreamer. 13 



thy sins and go to heaven?" John left the village green no 
more to profane and desecrate the day of holy rest. He chose 
the latter alternative.* 

In his youth he married a girl as poor as himself; so destitute 
were they that to begin life they had not so much as "a dish or 
a spoon between them." She carried him something better 
than gold or accomplishments: piety, good sense and two good 
books. Half the bridegrooms to-day are not so fortunate as he. 
Her parents were righteous. 

Immediately before he became a christian he passed through 
a strange series of religious vagaries. He wanted proof that he 
was a saved soul. He believed the Jews would be saved, and 
then sought to prove himself a Jew. This failing, he argues: 
"Christians possess faith; if I have faith I am a christian." He 
therefore bade the road puddles to be dry, and the dry places 
of the road to become puddles. As they did not obey him, he 
concluded he had no faith. Then he believed he had commit- 
ted the unpardonable sin — and was encouraged in his belief by 
a professor of religion, who was old enough to have known 
better. This was his Slough of Despond. While in this con- 
dition, it happened that he overheard some godly women talk- 
ing of the peace which possessed their hearts through faith in 
Christ. He inquired into this secret of Divine peace. They 
directed him to "that good minister of Jesus Christ" Mr. Gif- 
ford. Baptist minister of Bedford, who finally succeeded in 

* Now you must know that before this I had taken much delight in ringing, hut my 
conscience beginning to he tender, I tliought such practice was hut vain, and therefore 
forced myself to leave it ; yet my mind hankered ; wlierefore I would go to the steeple- 
house and look on, though I durst not ring ; l)ut I thought this did not become religion 
neither ; yet I forced myself, I would look on still. But <iuickly after I began to think, 
"How if one of the bells slKmld fall ?" Then I chose to stand under a main beam that 
lay over-thwart the steeple, from side to side, thinking here I might stand sure ; but then 
I thought again, should the bell fall with a swing it might first hit the wall and then re- 
bounding upon me, might kill me for all this beam. This made me stand in the steeple 
door ; and now, thought I, I am safe enough ; for If a bell should then fall, I can slip out 
behind these thick walls, and so be preserved, notwithstanding. 

So after this I would get to see them ring, but would not go any farther than the steeple 
door. But then it came into mv head, "How if the steeple itself should fall?" And this 
thought (it may, for aught I know, when I stood and looked on) did continually so shake 
my mind that I durst not stand in the steeple door any longer, but was forced to flee, for 
fear the steeple should fall on my head.— Bunyan. 



14 Lecture I. 

leading him into the way of righteousness, peace and joy, 
through faith in Jesus. 

Soon after his baptism and reception into the church, he did 
what all church members are bound to do — began to work, and 
from the day he began, he labored till death. He preached 
with wonderful acceptance in the adjacent villages. Houses, 
barns and conventicles were too strait for his congregations. 
With them he repaired to the village green, the grove, and mar- 
ket place. He had "a circuit" before Wesley was born. So 
many congregations grew up under him that he was called 
"Bishop Bunyan." 

His prosperity was not to flow unchecked, however. God 
intended him to preach to a larger congregation — to the whole 
world. And for this he must pass through great tribulation. 
It was then a crime to preach outside of "The Church." The 
clergy of "The Church," therefore, arrested Bunyan for the 
unpardonable sin of preaching where man first worshiped his 
Maker — in the open air. As John would not promise to desist, 
they sentenced him to prison, with the promise of ultimate 
hanging. 

Think of it! ''The Churc/r persecuting piety ! Is it not con" 
trary to the Spirit of God ? And yet the history of all churches* 
manifests this spirit. We may think with much feeling of the 
inquisition of the reign of Bloody Mary; our indignation may 
rise as we remember the banishment of the Pilgrim Fathers and 
their subsequent sufferings, but do not let us forget the history 
of New England. If we, as Congregationalists, had been in 
the same position as the Presbyterians, we would as soon have 
put him in prison. Let any Church have the sanction of law 
to make deviation from its standard of opinion a penal offense. 



* Except Baptist churches. I believe there is no liistorical record of persecution on 
their part. Tliis was for a long time inexplicable to me, and would still remain a mys- 
tery had 1 not heard the following anecdote ; A Baptist (dergyinan, in addressing a de- 
nominational meeting, tool< occasion to say that all the churches had i)ersecuted except 
their own ; whereupon there was great applause. He proceeded tiius : "My brethren, I 
will tell you luhy the Baptist churclies' have never persecuted— (profound sensation)—!/ 
is because they never had a chance!" The germ of this story maybe found in Soutliey's 
Common-place Book. 



The Dreamer. i 5 



and the human depravity of that Church will forget the love and 
mercy of the Gospel, to attend to the weigJitier matters of the lazv. 

John Bunyan was sent to prison for conscience sake, and had 
to leave to the care of a careless world, and to the tender mer- 
cies of a less merciful church, a frail wife and four children, one 
of whom (evidently his favorite) was blind. He had better 
speak for himself in this connection. Hear him: 

' ' I found myself a man compassed with infirmities ; the part- 
ing with my wife and poor children hath often been to me in 
this place as the pulling the flesh from the bones; and also it 
brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and wants 
that my poor family was like to meet with, should I be taken 
from them, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my 
heart than all beside. O, the thoughts of the hardships I thought 
my poor blind one might undergo, would break my heart to 
pieces. Poor child ! thought I, what sorrow art thou like to 
have for thy portion in this world! thou must be beaten, must 
beg, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, 
though I cannot endure the wind should blow upon thee. But 
yet. thought I, I venture you all with God, though it goeth to 
the quick to leave you. Oh ! I saw I was as a man who was 
pulling down his house upon the heads of his wife and children ; 
yet I thought on two milch kine that were to carry the ark of 
God into another country, and to leave their calves behind 
them. But that which helped me in this temptation was divers 
considerations : the first was the consideration of these two 
Scriptures, ''Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them 
alive; and let thy widows trust in me;" and again, "The Lord 
said, verily it shall go well with thy remnant ; verily I will cause 
the enemy to entreat them well in the time of evil." 

The charge brought against him, and on which he was tried 
before Judge Wingate, was, that "John Bunyan hath devilishly 
and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear divine 
service, and is a common upholder of several unlawful meetings 
and conventicles, to the disturbance and distraction of the good 



1 6 Lecture I. 

subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign 
lord and king." 

He was found guilty, after a trial, which probably gave him 
the idea of the one he has wrought into his allegory at Vanity 
Fair. His sentence was perpetual imprisonment, with the pro- 
bability of hanging, but was reduced to twelve years on the 
intervention of good Bishop Barlow. 

Here, in Bedford jail, with sixty dissenters,* who had sinned, 
and were suffering, alike, for conscience sake, he lived and wrote 
his Immortal Dream. While here he preached to the prisoners, 
and inside the walls of his "den" established a church. During 
the day he made tagged laces and wire snares, and by this 
means supported his family. 

What a noble fellow! Look at him suffering for his princi- 
ples ; preaching his Master's name and grace ; working daily to 
support his bereaved and afflicted family, and writing one of the 
few books the world possesses. 

Ah, noble John Bunyan; hero! martyr! devoted father! 
faithful disciple ! prince of allegorists ! heavenly dreamer ! thou 
subtle analyst of spiritual conflict, thou who didst nobly meet 
and conquer thine every foe, whether in human or diabolical 
shape ; though thy birth was so low that the great and high de- 
spised it; thy dreaming place a "den" so much bereft of heav- 
enly associations that men thought it had no connection there- 
with ; we revere thy memory, admire thy work, and thank 
God that though the den was dark, and thy life a sorrow, yet 
thy mind was a medium through which the light of heaven has 
come to us, and the joy unspeakable has filled our souls ! With 
the angels who crowned thee we sing, "Well done, thou good 
and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord !"t 

Good Bishop Barlow interceded for him with the authorities 
and succeeded in getting his sentence remitted, and then from 

* Print that heroic name in capitals. They were tlie fathers of America. 

t Few who read Banyan now-a-ilays tliinli of him as one of tlie brave old English 
confessors, whose steady and firm endurance of persecution, baffled, and in the end 
overcame, the tyranny of the established church in tlie reign of Charles II. What Mil- 



The Dreamer. 17 



prison he went forth to preach, furnished with a wonderful vo- 
cabulary of pure Saxon, a vivid imagination chastened by suf- 
fering, an extraordinary knowledge of the Word of God, deep 
religious experience, and the love of God in his soul. Well 
might Dr. Owen tell King James that he would gladly sacrifice 
his learning for Bunyan's power. 

As a preacher he penetrated vast tracts of country. His visits 
to London were events. He wrote as many books as he lived 
years. He wrote against Episcopalianism, the Quakers, and 
the Close Communion of his own church, besides his wonderful 
allegories and theological treatises. 

The last act of his life is simply sublime. He rode to Read- 
ing, amidst heavy rains, to plead with a father who had disin- 
herited and disowned his son. His efforts were successful, and 
he had the pleasure of seeing the disgraced child in the loving 
embrace of the angered parent. Had he not the spirit of 
his Master? Look now from John Bunyan to his Lord. Let 
us for one moment contemplate Him in his last work of love. 
The cases are alike, with differences. The servant sought to 
reconcile the father to the abandoned child. The Master sought 
to reconcile the children who had abandoned and disowned their 
loving Father. The servant died in doing his work — the Lord 
Jesus sacrificed himself for us. "God was in Christ, reconciling 
the world to Himself." Do you admire the act in John Bunyan? 
Oh ! then fall at the feet of his Master, and from your hearts say 
in loving faith — My Lord and My God. 



The general effect of his book on English Literature is such 

ton and Penn and Locke wrote in defense of liberty, Bunyan lived out and acted. He 
made no concessions to wordly rank. Dissolute lords and proud bisliojjs he counted less 
than the humblest and poorest of his disciples at Bedford. When first arrested and 
thrown into prison he supposed he should be called to suffer death for his faithful testi- 
mony to the truth : and his great fear was, that he should not meet his fate with the re- 
quisite firmness, and so dishonor the cause of his Master. And when dark clouds came 
over him, and he sought in vain for a sufficient evidence that in the event of his death 
it would be well with him, he girded up his soul with the reflection that as he suffered 
for the word and way of God, he was engaged not to shrink one hair's breadth from it. 
"I will leap." he says, "off the ladder blindfold into eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, 
come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt, catch me, do ; if not, I will venture in Thy name !" 
— Whittier'ii Prose Works, pp. 2.'il-2, tioL 1. 

—3 



1 8 Lecture I. 

that any one who has not read it cannot be said to have received 
a Hberal educatitTR. If we were to eHminate its parables, phra- 
ses, names of its various characters, particular words and events 
from our literature, much of it would become unintelligible. 

Says Hallam: "John Bunyan may pass for the father of our 
novelists. His success in a line of composition like the spiritual 
romance or allegory, which seems to have been frigid and un- 
readable in the few instances where it had been attempted, is 
doubtless enhanced by his want of learning, and his low station 
in life. He was therefore rarely, if ever, an imitator. Bunyan 
possessed in a remarkable degree the power of representation : 
his inventive faculty was considerable ; but the other is his dis- 
tinguishing excellence. He saw and makes us see what he 
describes ; he is circumstantial, without prolixity ; and in the 
variety and frequent change of his incidents, never loses sight of 
the unity of his allegorical fable. His invention was enriched, 
or rather his choice determined, by one rule he had laid down 
for himself — the adaptation of all the incidental language of 
scripture to his own use. There is scarce a circumstance or 
metaphor in the Old Testament which does not find a place 
bodily and literally in the story of the Pilgrim's Progress; and 
this peculiar artifice has made his own imagination appear more 
creative than it really is. In the conduct of the romance, no 
rigorous attention to the propriety of the allegory seems to 
have been uniformly preserved. Vanity Fair, or the Cave of 
the two Giants, might, for anything we see, have been placed 
elsewhere ; but it is by this neglect of exact parallelism that he 
better keeps up the reality of the pilgrimage and takes off the 
coldness of mere allegory. It is also to be remembered that 
Ave read this book at an age when the spiritual meaning is either 
little perceived or little regarded. In his language, neverthe- 
less, Bunyan sometimes mingles signification too much with the 
fable ; we might be perplexed between the imaginary and the 
real Christian ; but the liveliness of the narration soon brings 
us back, or did, at least, when we were young, to the fields of 
fancy." 



The Dream. 19 

This is an abstract of the events: "From highest heaven a 
voice has proclaimed vengeance against the City of Destruction, 
where Hves a sinner of the name of CJwistiaii.'^^ Terrified, he 
rises up amid the jeers of his neighbors and departs, for fear of 
being devoured by the fire which is to consume the criminals. 
A helpful man, Evangelist, shews him the right road. A treach- 
erous man, Worldlywise, tries to turn him aside. His compan- 
ion. Pliable, who had followed him at first, gets stuck in the 
Slough of Despond, and leaves him. He advances bravely 
across the dirty water and the slippery mud, and reaches the 
Strait Gate, where a wise Intcyprctei- instructs him by visible 
shows, and points out the way to the Heavenly City. He 
passes before a Cross, and the heavy burden of sins which he 
carried on his back is loosened and falls off He painfully 
climbs the steep hill of Difficulty and reaches a great Castle, 
where Watchful, the guardian, gives him in charge of his good 
daughters, Piety and Prudence, who warn him and arm him 
against the monsters of hell. He finds his road barred by one 
of these demons, Appolyon, who bids him abjure obedience to 
the Heavenly King. After a long fight he conquers him. Yet 
the way grows narrow, the shades fall thicker, sulphurous flames 
rise along the road ; it is the valley of the SJiadoiv of Death. 
He passes it and arrives at the town of Vanity, a vast fair of 
business, deceits, and shows, which he walks by with lowered 
eyes, not wishing .to take part in its festivities or falsehoods. 
The people of the place beat him, throw him into prison, con- 
demn him as a traitor and rebel, burn his companion. Faithful. 
Escaped from their hands he falls into those of Giant Despair, 
who beats him, leaves him in a poisonous dungeon without food, 
and giving him daggers and cords, advises him to rid himself 
from so many misfortunes. At last he reaches the Delectable 
Mountains, where he sees the holy city. To enter it he has only 
to cross a deep river, where there is no foothold, where the water 
dims the sight, and which is called the river of Death, "f 

* This is a mistake. His original name was Graceless. 
tXaine. 



20 Lecture I. 

Coleridyje says: "I know of no book, the Bible excepted, 
as above all comparison, which I, accordino- to my judgment and 
experience, could so safely recommend as teaching and enforc- 
ing the whole saving truth according to the mind that was in 
Christ Jesus, as the Pilgrim's Progress. It is. in my conviction, 
incomparably the best Siimma T/nologiciC Erani^cliccc ever pro- 
duced by a writer not miraculously inspired. It is composed 
in the lowest style of English, without slang or false grammar. 
If you were to polish it you would at once destroy the reality 
of the vision, for works of imagination should be written in 
very plain language; the more purely imaginative the)' are, 
the more necessary it is to be plain. This wonderful book is 
one of the few works which ma\- be read repeatedlj", at differ- 
ent times, and each time with new and different pleasure. I 
read it once, as a theologian, and let me assure you there is a 
great logical acumen in the work ; once with devotional feel- 
ings, and once as a poet. I could not have believed, beforehand, 
that Calvinism could be painted in such delightful colors." 

The manner in which he wrote it is best told b\- himself: 

"\\'hen at the first I took my pen in hand. 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That 1 at all should :nake a little book 
In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which, when almost done. 
Before I was aware. I this begun. 

.And thus it was: I, writing of the way 

And race of saints in this our gospel-day. 

Fell suddenly into an allegory 

About their journey and the way to glory. 

In more than twenty things which I set down : 

This done. I twenty more had in my crown ; 

And these again began to multipl\- 

Like sparks that from the coals o'( fire do \\y. 

Nay. then, thought 1. if that you breed so fast 

I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 



The Dkkam. 2I 

^ t 

Should prove aii infinition and oat o\\\. 
The book that I alroad)' am about. 

Well, so I did : but )'et I did not think 
I'o show to all the world my pen and ink- 
In such a mode; 1 only tlunit^ht to make 
1 knew not what ; nor did 1 undertake 
Thereb)- \o please w\\ neii^hbour ; no, not I ; 
1 ilitl it mine (^\\\\ self to gratify. 

Neither ilid I but \-acant seasiMis s[>etul 

In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 

But to divert myself, in doin<;- this, 

h'rt)m worser thoughts, which make me C\,o amiss." 

It appears that he was advised by some of his friemls not to 
print it; others, however, advised him to do so. In order to 
decitle the wisilom ^^i their opinitms, he j)rinted it. 

SiMiie objected \o this form of presenting truth. These he 
snccessfulh' combats. Then, in the following earnest \,vords, 
states his purpose : 

"And nmv before 1 ilo put up m\' pen 
I'll show the profit o{ \w\ book, and then 
CiMiimit both me antl it into that Ilaml 
That pulls the strong down, and makes the weak ones 
stand. 

This boc^k it chalketh out before thine eyes 

The man that seeks the everlasting prize : 

It shews )-ou whence he comes, whither he goes ; 

What he leaves undone ; also what he does ; 

It also shews you how he runs and runs 

'Till he unto the Gate of Glorj- comes. 

It shews, too, who set out for life amain. 

As ii the lasting crown the)' wi)uld obtain. 

Here also you may see the reason wh}' 

They lose their labour, and like fools do die." 



22 Lecture I. 

I have lessons to teach from this Hfe for young men, young 
women, parents and the church. 

Young men, be Unie. John Bunyan had convictions, and was 
true to them ; he had genius and was true to it. You can never 
be Hke him, except in this one particular. This was the found- 
ation of his Christ-like character, his fortitude, his usefulness, 
his influence. He did not bemoan that he was not a great man ; 
nor did he think himself one. He did his duty. Like all great 
men, he was a great servant. Like his Master, he was not min- 
istered unto, but he ministered. Be yourselves sanctified ; 
yourselves sanctified to the duty that is next you. This only is 
acceptable service. Many young men are ruined because they 
do not use the talents they have. Thou shalt not covet, applies 
to brain and opportunity and circumstance, as well as to goods. 

Employ your leisure. The Pilgrim's Progress was written in 
leisure hours, at odd moments, which too many young men 
waste. His advantages were exceedingly few. His study was 
a dungeon. His books, the Bible and Fox's Book of Martyrs. 
You are all better off than he, but probably none of you are 
quite so wise as he. Lose not a moment. Life is precious. 
Begin now to seek wisdom ; exalt her and she shall promote 
thee. If you still halt for want of instruction as to what you 
shall do in spare moments, do as he did : Read the Bible ; pray 
for God's Holy Spirit ; and then, like him, you shall see visions 
and dream dreams. 

Maidens, be good. John Bunyan's wife's dowry was not 
large ; estimated in the market, it was nothing. And yet we 
know not how much it contributed to his immortal fame. She 
took him her loving heart, enriched with piety, two small books 
and a godly father's blessing. Believe me, there is nothing that 
will make home so home-like and heaven-like as these. You may 
take into your future home, gold, silver, jewels, music, flowers, 
culture, grace ; but unless you take a meek and quiet spirit, you 



The Dream. 23 

do not take the pearl of great price ; you leave outside the bet- 
ter part. 

Parents : Counteract the effects of bad literature by giving 
your cJiildren tins book. It costs no more than rubbish. The 
children will be charmed with it ; it will not corrupt them ; you 
will not then have cause to fear that your sons will run away to be 
pirates or robbers, or remain at home to be idle spendthrifts, 
gamblers and drunkards ; rather may you expect that they will 
start from the City of Destruction, fight Appolyon, and live and 
die heroes of Vanity Fair; while your daughters, instead of 
being poisoned by false ideas of life, will cultivate the solid vir- 
tues and emulate the sisters of the Palace Beautiful. 

It would be an interesting study for some one to look up the 
great men who read Pilgrim's Progress in youth. It was the first 
book Franklin possessed, and we agree with Everett, that it 
could not have been a better. Hallam and Dean Stanley, his- 
torians and divines, acknowledge its influence over them in 
youth. Sir Titus Salt, who rose to eminence from obscurity, 
from a poor boy to the front rank of inventors, manufacturers 
and philanthropists, ever regarded it as one of his favorites. I 
have read of many others, but now cannot call them to mind. 

A word to the Church : Fetter no genius. The Established 
Church imprisoned him ; they put fetters on his body ; but 
when his genius gave birth to this child, his Baptist friends, like 
the Egyptian midwives, thought they had an ordinance to put 
it to death. What to them was an impious form of stating the 
truth, has been the divine message to many souls. Christ once 
needed the foal of an ass ; He once needed the dreams of a 
tinker ; He may need now some form of truth which is obnox- 
ious to the church. Let us not stereotype mind ; let it follow 
its bent ; provided it be sanctified, God will use it. 

Despair of no one: Bunyan was converted. The town sin- 
ner ; the blaspheming tinker. This man, very low in the social 
scale, was saved, and has saved many others. Let us not des- 



24 Lecture I. 

pair. Christ shall yet bring many such sons to glory ; for the 
joy set before Him of saving them, He endured the cross, 
despised the shame, and is now at the right hand of God. 

Read it, and then — 

"The book will make a traveler of thee, 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its direction understand. 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
The blind also delightful things to see." 



[The attempts which have been made to improve this book are not to be numbered. 
It has been done into verse ; it has been done into modern English. The "Pilgrimage of 
Tender Conscience," the "Pilgrimage of Good Intent," the '-Pilgrimage of Seek Truth," 
the "Pilgrimage of Theophilus." the "Infant Pilgrim," the "Hindoo Pilgrim," are among 
the many feeble copies of the great original. But the peculiar glory of Bunyan is that 
those who most hated his doctrines have tried to borrow the help of his genius. A Catholic 
version of his parable may be seen with tlie head of the Virgin in the title page. On the 
other hand, those Anlinomians for whom his Calvinism is not strong enough, may study 
the pilgrimage of Mephzibah, in which nothing will be found which can be construed into 
an admission of free agency and universal redemption. But the most extraordinary of 
all the acts of vandalism by which a fine work of art was ever defaced, was committed 
so late as the year 1853. It was deternnned to transform The Pilgrim's Progress into a 
Tractarian book. The task was not easy, for it was necessary to make the two sacraments 
the most prominent objects in the allegory, and of all Christian Theologians, avowed 
Quakers excepted, Bunyan is the one in whose system the sacraments held the least pro- 
minent place. However, the Wicket C4ate became a type of baptism, and the House 
Beautiful of the Eucharist. The effect of this change is such as assuredly the ingenious 
person who made it never contemplated. For, as not a single pilgrim passes through the 
wicket in infancy, and as Faithful hurries past the House Beautiful without stopping, 
the lesson which the fable, in its altered shape, teaches, is that none but adults ought to 
be baptized, and that the Eucharist may safely be neglected. Nobody would have discov- 
ered from the original Pilgrim's Progress that the author was not a Psedo-Baptist. To 
turn his book into a book against Poedo-Baptism was an achievement reserved for an An- 
glo-Catholic divine. Such blunders must necessarily be committed by every man who 
mutilates part of a great work, without taking a comprehensive view of the whole.] 

Macaulay. 

[Rev. W. Shrubsall, the first pastor of Bethel Chapel, Sherness, England, wrote a 
work in imitation of this. The only departure from the original is that Mr. S. makes 
his Pilgrim go to the Celestial City by water. It has considerable merit.] R. N. 



LECTURE II. 



THE PILGRIM STARTS FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Bimyan, in his den, dreams that he sees a man named 
Graceless, of the City of Destruction, clothed with rags, standing with his 
lace from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden on his back. 
He reads, weeps, and cries out frequently and lamentably, saying, "What shall 
I do ?" for he has learned from The Book that the city in which he lives will be 
destroyed by fire from heaven. Thereupon he tells his fears to his wife, chil- 
dren and neighbors, who, instead of being alarmed, were surly to him, and 
derided him by turns. A man named Evangelist here meets him, who, learning 
his condition, exhorts him to flee from the wrath to come, and to the Wicket 
Gate, which he could not see. He was then directed to follow a light, which he 
could see, with the promise that it would lead to the gate. He started as di- 
rected. Wife, children, and neighboi's called him back, but he put his fingers 
in his ears and ran on, crying. Life I Life ! Eternal Life ! Two of his 
neighbors, named Obstinate and Pliable, followed him, determined to bring 
him back. They overtook him, and after much unavailable discussion, 
Obstinate returned, but Pliable went on, being moved thereto by fear, and 
charmed with the prospect of the Celestial City held out by Christian, late 
Graceless — the hero of the Dream.] 



BUNYAN started his Pilgrim. He made him go. He did 
not permit him to sit still and wait for an angel to come 
from the upper world and carry him along ; nor wait until he 
was better ; nor spend years in thinking about it. No ! he just 
started. 

I suppose you need not be told that if you would get to heaven 

you must begin to go thither. You must take the first step, 

and then the next, and then the next, and plod every inch of 

the way. The first step should be taken ; and now ; and the 

—4 



26 Lecture II. 

next should follow in the same manner. Every step is a begin- 
ning and an end. Each one reaches to the threshold of the 
other. 

Begin this journey with the strength you have now. Do not 
think you will be lifted to the skies by some celestial agency. 
You will not. Begin in some way to be a Christian ; no matter 
how you may blunder. Better blunder in the beginning, than 
at last discover that your life has been a blunder all the way 
through. 

Do you say, "It needs to be thought about?" I agree with 
you. But please remember that all of you have had years, and 
some of you a long life-time, in which to think of it. Besides, 
this saying that you want to think about it. is frequently an ex- 
cuse to banish it from your minds. I am sure if you did think 
seriously you would desire to "flee from the wrath to come," 
and manifest it by asking the old question. "What must I do 
to be saved ?" 

I. Consider the Condition of the Pilgrim ivJicn lie started. He 
is described in this graphic passage: "I dreamed, and behold I 
saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with 
his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great 
burden on his back." Here is a picture of an unsaved man's 
condition. Let us talk about the several items. 

''A man .'" a being made in God's image ; His child. A mind 
incarnate ; capable of holding intercourse with Deity ; of explor- 
ing the universe and learning its secrets ; of knowing good and 
evil ; of choosing blessing or curse ; free to obey the law. and free 
to break it. Such are you, such is your dignity, such are your 
privileges, and such your perils. He is a picture of ourselves. 

^'Clothed with rags!" You possibly object to this descrip- 
tion. You may say in reply, "my morality is not in rags!" 
But can any of you say that your lives are no where torn by 
sins? I do not ask whether you are as good as your neigh- 
bors. Perhaps you are really better than most men. But this 
is the question : Have you been as good as you ought to have 



The Start. 27 

been? Have you not merely broken no commandment, but 
have you filled full the whole law? 

Go home and look at one of your old coats. It was once 
new, clean, and good; good in material, good in fit; you were 
once pleased with it and proud of it. Why do you not wear 
it? You reply, "Why sir, it is out at the elbows, raveled at the 
cuffs, greasy on the collar, torn on the lapels." These are good 
reasons for not wearing it. None of us would wear such on the 
street, at church, or parties. They are only worn when we 
do dirty work, or when we care not for brother man to see us. 
But if you will look it over you will find some good in it yet. 
It is not all bad as cloth, but it is very bad as a coat. It was 
once all good, both as coat and cloth. But you don't wear it, 
you are properly ashamed to do so. 

Your character, or your virtue, or your righteousness is like 
that. It is in rags. But we don't mean to say that there is no 
good in you, or that there never has been, but that the good you 
now possess is disfigured by rags ; and if you would review your 
lives and could see your hearts as they are, you would be 
ashamed and afraid to go into the presence of God as you are 
now doing. 

Have you ever told a lie? That is one torn spot in your ex- 
perience! Haveyou told two? three? or more? Haveyou told one 
per week? per day? Haveyou cheated in business? Haveyou 
withheld the truth? Have you oppressed the poor? Haveyou 
broken the Sabbath ; broken the seventh commandment in any 
of its forms? Taken God's name in vain? Been angry with a 
brother without cause? Have you done any unrighteousness? 
Have you known to do good and neglected to do it ? Have 
you knowingly and voluntarily been on the side of might against 
right? Have you smothered conscience, grieved the Holy 
Ghost, or substituted religion for righteousness? If you have 
done any of these things, am I not right in saying that your 
righteousness is in rags? of some might I not sz-y filthy rags? 
Will you go to God's righteous judgment thus? 

''Stood zvitJi Jiis face from ids 01^)1 house.'' Why? Because 



28 Lecture II. 

he knew that the Celestial City was not in that direction ! Per- 
haps so. But as yet he was ignorant of its whereabouts. He 
only knew where it was not. This means, when applied to a 
sinner, that he turns his thoughts, desires and attention from 
sin and its pleasures. 

Friends, to get a good start, you must first turn your backs 
on sin and sinful engagements. It is impossible to get to heaven 
with a sinful life. No sin, nor anything that maketh a lie (the 
easiest form of sin), can enter there. 

Nor can you, if you keep the love of the world supreme in 
your heart. You must leave father, mother, brother, sister, 
houses and lands, to take up the cross of leaving them further 
and further behind daily, or you cannot attain. They must ever 
be less than supreme. The claims of righteousness are before 
blood. 

And what is the use of supremely loving this world? Its 
pleasures pass away. Its treasures perish. Its riches are fleet- 
ing. It will be burned up. Scripture affirms it ; science de- 
clares it. It must perish. Its elements shall melt with fervent 
heat. The heavens and earth that now are, are but reserved for 
the great conflagration. But before this occurs we may leave 
it, and to go saved or unsaved spirits into Eternity. 

Had you not better turn your attention to another life ! A 
better world! Many of you would start, if you could but turn 
your backs on this world. The way to do that, is, to turn your 
face in search of a better. 

"A book in his hand." One of the beauties of John Bunyan 
is that he makes his Pilgrim a Bible reader from first to last. 
His "Christian" is never without "The Book." With all his 
genius he is unable to think of a Christian who neglects to read 
his Bible. There is much wisdom in this. If you were visit- 
ing Europe, you would procure before-hand, and carry with you, 
railway guides, ocean guides, hotel guides, and guides to the va- 
rious countries and places of interest. When you visit a museum 
you ask for a guide book. This is the habit of all intelligent 
persons. It is just as intelligent to take "the guide" from earth 



The Start. 29 

• 

to heaven. You need this Hght to thy path, this lamp for thy 
feet. It is folly to attempt the journey without it. 

"//r had the book in his hand.'' Yours, possibly, is a beauti- 
fully bound volume, lying on a shelf at home. That will do 
you no good there. Take it down, rub the dust off and use it, 
for the Book is not to be worshiped, but read. The entraticc 
of the Word giveth light. Guide books are poorly bound, but 
always consulted. Use the lamp to be guided by the light 
therein, for 

"This lamp, from oft" the everlasting throne, 
Mercy took down, and in the night of time 
Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow. 
And evermore beseeching men with tears 
And earnest sighs, to hear, believe and live."* 

* 'A great burden on his back. ' ' He is a burdened pilgrim. You 
know how awkward, depressing and wearying is a heavy bur- 
den. Those who bear them use every means they know of to 
relieve themselves. Those who carry heavy burdens in their 
daily employment, use all their ingenuity and skill to devise 
machinery to do their work. An honest man may have a heavy 
burden of debt, and this robs him of domestic comfort and 
hampers his business. He will do his utmost, denying himself 
many luxuries, that he may enjoy the greater luxury of being 
out of debt. Others have burdens of personal or family afflic- 
tions to bear, and they spend their fortunes in the employment 
of medical skill to be rid of them. 

Now we have large burdens of sin. What shall we do with 
them? We cannot carry them with us to heaven. We must 
get rid of them. But, perhaps, you are unconscious of this 
burden. A dead man is not conscious of the marble and the 
soil under which he lies. Nor are men who are dead in tres- 
passes and sin, conscious of sin. 

We will suppose that a man has stolen something. The theft 
is not immediately discovered, so he steals again and again. So 
successful is he that he grows careless. His conscience becomes 

* Pollock. 



30 Lkctukk 11. 

hardtMioil, and ho sins easier than he did. His iloeiis ilo not 
trouble him; ind^iiUMit is not executed ai;ainst his wicked work 
speedily, and so his lu-art is fully set in him to ilo e\il. Now 
let us suppose he is cauL;ht in the act, or that his crimes are 
traced itome to him. and his emplo\ers ami the otVicers ot the 
law sa\' ti> him. as Nathan did to Oaxid. "riun) art the man." 
l"'ri'>n\ th.u nuMUtMit he is burdened. lie is oppressed b\- a 
knowledi^e ot his sins, a sense of j^uilt. He is burdened with 
tear, w ith .i smitini^ conscieiice. with shame in bein^; brought to 
jniblic tri.il. and with t'e.ut'ul apprehensions as to his future 
doom, and then w irh .i life long- sense of shame and disgrace. 

Have N'ou sinned? Little or much is not the question. Have 
)'ou sinned? If so. are \ou not .ipprehensive of God's judg- 
ments? If you have sown to tht^ tlesh. \v>u must tVom th.it 
source reap corruptiotv 

1 beliexe 1 ha\e presented >'ou with .i f.iir pictiue of your 
moral condition in its iudicivd relations. Don't forget that by 
irrevocable law all sin is punishable! It brings punishment with 
it. Judgment ma\' tarr\-. but it will surely come. Bunyan's 
Pilgrim perceived that he w.is condemiu^l to die. and atter 
that to judgment, and t'ound that he was unwilling to do the 
first, and not able to do the second, and w hen l-lvangelist asked. 
"W h\' not willing to die, since life is attendee^ with so man\- 
evils?" he answered, "Because 1 fear this burden on my back 
(his sins) will sink me lower than the grave. And, sir, if 1 be 
not fit to go to prison. 1 am not fit to go to judgment, and from 
thence to execution. " This is a fair picture of an unregenera- 
ted man's condition. Dare you face the God of law? Dare 
>-ou any longer live inditTerently to Divine law ? Dare you takt,^ 
the consequences of broken law ? 

II. Let MS m>!i' talk of his motk'es. He was moved by fkak 
To his credit be it said, he w .is afraid longer to live a life that 
could only end in miser>-. in a city that was doomed to perish. 
It has of late been quite fashionable to deride this motive in 
religion. 1 ireely grant that it may have been appealed to. 
to ail unhealthv extent. In such cases correctioit is needed. 



The Start. • 31 

Perhaps it is too true that there are some Christians whose only 
idea of heaven is security from hell. A Christian of several 
years' standing said to me once, "Why. Mr. N., if there is no 
hell. I have no desire to go to heaven !" I have met with sev- 
eral instances of this kind, and I deplore their existence. Yet 
it is philosophical to appeal to this motive. You may say 
that men ought to be urged by higher ones. Perhaps so ; but 
suppose this is the only one left? 

The principle of fear is in us all. You fear a fire, and there- 
fore insure your property ; you fear thieves, and therefore sleep 
with a revolver by your side and a mastiff in the yard ; you fear 
poverty, and therefore "lay up for a rainy day ;" you fear mala- 
ria, and therefore take antidotes. Is it therefore ignoble that a 
man should fear hell? I trow not. Answer ye.* 

But you say a man should love right for its own sake. A 
Christian may grow up to that, but as a rule he does not begin 
there. A boy goes to school because he fears his parents' dis- 
pleasure if he does not, but afterwards he pursues knowledge 
for the joy it affords him, and the good he can do with it. So 
with a Christian. He may grow, from fear of punishment, into 
positive and noble love of God and man. 

Knowing what humanity is, St. Theresa was foolish to go 
about with fire in one hand to burn up heaven, and water in 
the other to quench hell, so that room might be made for better 
motives. We are creatures of low motive. 

Another motive is self-love. This is not selfishness. In the 
latter there is always a disregard to the rights or the feelings or 
the good of others. But self-love is that principle which God 
has implanted in us all to seek our own good. This is com- 
patible with true benevolence, yea, with the highest form of 
religion. It is one of God's commands, "Thou shalt love thy- 
self." Its roots are deeper than selfishness. Selfishness is 
hellish, self-love is divine ; self-love is a noble duty. No man 
hateth his own flesh. If your house were on fire, you would 



* Voltaire is credited with tlie following story : "Charles XII. once read on a tomb- 
stone this epitaph, ' Here lies a man who never knew fear.' Then, said His Majesty, 
' the fool never snuffed a candle with his fingers.' " 



32 Lecture II. 

leave furniture and books, and show \our love of self by your 
attempts to escape. 

Hope is another. He left that city, hoping to find another 
ai\d a better. There is a better world, an eternal city, where 
death never enters, and disease never comes. There the light 
is never dim. the riches do not escape, the beauty does not fade, 
the joy is never disturbed with grief It is prepared for you : 
will you leave sin and a worldly life for it? This is the result 
of leaving sin for righteousness. These are the motives attrib- 
uted to this pilgrim. Have you such? I ask. have you such? 
because it is frequently supposed, and the supposition finds 
support from the terminology of our church life, that the ordinary- 
motives of men are not brought into operation in the matter of 
salvation. And fear, self-love and hope, are the most ordinary- 
motives of life. 

Take the case of an emigrant: While living and toiling 
for bare subsistence in old countries, he fears — especially as 
responsibilities grow upon him — that he will not be able to 
remain there comfortably and honestly. Political, social and 
educational rights are denied him. His self-love prompts him 
to seek a newer country. He asks himself, why should I. a 
man, with strength of sinew and brain, toil all my life for naught, 
to find at the end of it a poor-house and a pauper's grave ? why 
should I. a man. bring up my children in povert}- and ignor- 
ance, and then the\-. in their turn, be denied a righteous reward ? 
Why should 1 and mine be the slaves of custom and the stereo- 
t}-ped opinions of men who think that because they wear the 
titles of rank, which they give each other, and which are often 
the heirlooms of crime, they are the aristocrats of the universe? 
Self-love rises against it. 

Then he reads of a new country, where men are free and 
intelligent ; where labor is honored and honorable ; where brain 
and muscle bring their price; where a man can be a man, not 
because he is the farthest removed from him who "founded the 
family," but because God made him. Hope springs up within 
his heart. Such a man you will frequently see on the wharves 



The Start. 33 

: C 

in Liverpool, literally scekinor his salvation. lie leaves father, 
mother, brother and sister — the Hvin<T and the dead — for this. 
He is moved by fear, self-love and hope. 

The same may be seen in an invalid: .She fears the disease 
of which .she is a victim ; she sends for a physician, and takes all 
manner of nauseous drut^s. submits to low fare and to be treated 
as a child, not because she loves these things, but because she 
loves herself, and because she hojies they will be the means of 
her restoration. 

These ordinary motives are the ones on which you must act, 
and yet. I venture to say, that many of you are waitint^ for some 
extraordinary supernatural impulse to move you before you ask 
what you must do to inherit eternal life! Do not wait for that. 
If you believe that sin is punishable, if you know that you have 
sinned, then let fear of the consequences, love to self, and the 
hope which is held out in the gospel, move you to the salvation 
of your soul. 

III. His hindrances. You will observe that they arose partly 
from his own ignorance. He knew his condition and danger, 
but he knew not what to do to escape either. No sinner seems 
to. You ma)^ have heard the word preached for many years, 
and yet not know the way of .salvation by faith in Christ. If 
you are this night aroused to a sense of your danger, you will. 
cry out, as he did, and as Paul did, "What must I do to be 
saved?" 

He was hindered by his family. Ihey thought "some distem- 
per had got into his head." ihey treated him harshly; tried 
to divert his thoughts from his convictions, and derided his 
fears. An unconcerned sinner does not understand an awakened 
one. The one is to the other an insoluble enigma. A friend 
of my own, in this condition, visited the clergyman of his parish. 
The reverend brother thought it was a case of melancholia, and 
forthwith supplied him with a half-dozen new novels. But a 
young lady broke the spell grandly. Her friends tried to stop 
her conversion ; did their utmost to .scatter her serious thoughts. 
To do this they took her to the theater and opera and balls ; 
—5 



34 



Lecture II. 



kept her away from religious associations. One evening she 
was taken to a musicale sociable, and being possessed of a fine, 
cultivated voice, was led to the piano for the performance of a 
favorite song. She struck a few chords, and then she sang in 
the ears of her relatives, who threatened to expel her from her 
home — 

"There is my house, my portion fair, 
My treasure and my heart are there, 

And my abiding home; 
For me my elder brethren stay. 
And angels beckon me away. 
And Jesus bids me come." 

And thus broke the opposition forever. 

This is but an every day picture of divided families. How 
frequently it is that one starts alone, and starts opposed by the 
others. Sometimes the husband hinders the wife. Oh hus- 
bands, your wives might be Christians but for you. It is 
heart-breaking for them to think of a Christian profession with- 
out you. And sometimes the wife hinders the husband. Her 
desire for gaiety and pleasure is an obstacle. Can I not per- 
suade you, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, parents 
and children, to start together? God's old-fashioned way of 
saving men, was in families. Early and continuous promises 
are made to families. But if you will not start together, let 
each one start alone. 

Public opinion was against him. His neighbors opposed him. 
They joined his family in the general derision and attempts to 
keep him back. Two of them. Obstinate and Pliable, started 
after him, determined to make him return. But of this I will say 
no more. " Vox populi" is not always " Vox Dei." 

Lastly, let us talk about his Helps. A man, named Evangelist, 
saw him and heard him and came to him. This man, in Bun- 
yan's history, was "the good Mr. Gifford," pastor of the Bap- 
tist Church at Bedford, under whose personal directions Bunyan 
was led to Christ. In the allegory he is the portrait of ' 'the 



The Start. 35 

good minister of Jesus Christ," whose mission it is to direct 
souls to the Master. 

Preachers should help sinners as Evangelist did, by — 

1 . Lookhig 02U for burdened soids. There are many who have 
not courage to come to us, and because we do not go to them, 
think no man cares for their souls. 

2. Entering into direct personal conversation. So close does 
the physician get to his patient, and so close does the lawyer 
get his client, and the merchant to the buyer. There is little 
success in these things till this is done. While I would say 
nothing that appears to limit the operation of the Spirit of God, 
yet I do believe that success is only attained by immediate con- 
tact of soul with soul. 

3. By giving proper directions. He gave him a parchment roll — 
some instruction applicable to his case. Every case is "pecu- 
liar," and demands special attention. I preached in prison a 
few Sabbaths ago. At the conclusion of my sermon, one of the 
prisoners came to me and said, "Sir, if I were to ask you, 'what 
must I do to be saved,' what would you reply?" I told him 
that I would give no reply until I knew him. He expressed 
his suspicion of my orthodoxy in a moment, and instructed me 
that the proper answer would be, ' 'Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved." It was now my turn, and so 
I put to him this question: "Do you believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ?" "Yes, sir, I do." (With emphasis.) "Well, 
then, how comes it that you are here?" He was emphatically 
silent. 

Evangelist gave Christian no instruction until he discovered 
his condition. Here Bunyan is true to Scripture, and those 
who adopt the other plan of saying, "Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ and thou shalt be saved," to any and everybody, are not. 
Of the many examples of men seeking their salvation, given in 
the Scriptures, to one only was this answer given. Different 
answers were given to different individuals. To the people who 



36 Lecture II. 

came to John the Baptist, with the question. "What shall we 
do, then?" he said, "He that hath two coats, let him impart to 
him that hath none ; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise. " 
To the publicans who said to him, "Master, what shall we do?" 
he replied, "Exact no more than that which is appointed you." 
To the soldiers who demanded an answer for themselves to the 
same question, he said, "Do violence to no man, neither accuse 
any falsely ; and be content with your wages. " The young man 
whom Jesus loved, was told to sell all that he had and give it to 
the poor, and follow Christ. Christ said to Nicodemus, "Ye 
must be born again." To the penitent thief, "To-day shalt thou 
be with me in Paradise." To the multitudes who repented 
under the preaching of Peter on the day of Pentecost, and who 
cried out, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" the apostles 
said, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name 
of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins. " To his own dis- 
ciples the Master said, "Except ye be converted and become 
as little children, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of heav- 
en." Does not this sustain the statement that the way of sal- 
vation for one man is different from that which will save another? 
There are different ways to Christ, just as there are ways to get to 
New York. There is a way from the prairies, a way from over 
the ocean, a way from north, south, east and west, by rail, by 
ship, by carriage. It depends upon where a man is, as to the 
way he must take to reach it. 

If a man be drowning, you throw out a rope to save him ; if 
he be starving, a rope is useless, you give him bread ; if fever 
burns in his veins, neither are helpful, we give him drugs. It 
is impossible to save these three men in one way. So if a man 
be a liar, he must speak the truth to be saved ; if he be a thief, 
he must become honest; if a drunkard, he must become sober; 
if lecherous, he must be chaste ; if selfish, he must become 
benevolent. All this is included in believing in Christ, but my 
objection is to giving a general rule when specific directions 
are necessary. To tell the Phillipian jailer to sell his goods and 
give tiiem to the poor, would have been mockery ; not to have 



The Start. 37 

• 

demanded it of the young lawyer, would have been to ruin 
him. 

I cannot help but refer to my own history. When about 
thirteen years of age I decided to be a Christian. It happened 
in this wise : I attended a meeting with the rest of my parents' 
household. During the recital of religious history, my brother 
Samuel, who is now a preacher of the Gospel, began to weep, 
and finally to pray. Before the meeting was over he professed 
conversion. 

I was moved, though stubborn. With my brother we walked 
home — mother between us. Samuel was happy, mother was 
praying, and I was miserable. I felt my mother praying for 
me. Now, I never could stand her prayers, and so when I 
reached home I was completely broken down, and instead of 
saying my prayers that night. I prayed with strong crying and 
tears for the Lord to save me. My prayers brought father to 
me. I had heard him preach many a good sermon, and received 
from him many a sound thrashing; but nothing that he had 
done ever affected me as his kneeling by my side and mingling 
his prayers and tears with mine. When in my intense grief and 
earnestness I said. "Father, what shall I do to be saved?" he 
replied, "My son, believe that Jesus died for you." 

I shall never forget my feelings. I should have felt mocked, 
but father loved me too much to mock me. He assured me 
again and again that I must do that. On his assurance I be- 
came happy, and on this experience joined the church. 

Shortly afterwards I was accused of naughtiness; and then 
my father corrected me. I do not now remember his words, 
but they were to the effect that it was of no use for me to pray 
and believe and join the church and go to meeting, unless I 
tried to be good. Here was an inconsistency which I felt, 
though I did not understand it. 

There was no need for me to believe that Christ died for me ; 
I had never doubted it. I had learned the whole story at my 
mother's knee, had heard it from her lips, warm from her heart. 
Believing that did not save me from sin. nor has it ever. I 



38 Lecture II. 

make the sad confession, that I have often wickedly and wil- 
fully broke God's law, because I believed that the "blood of 
Christ — God's Son — cleanseth from all sin." I have sinned, 
and believed the consequences would amount to nothing, be- 
cause I had been taught, and I believed that by some means 
which I could not understand, the matter was righted by Christ 
in His death on the cross. There are many hundreds in this 
condition. They cover immortal lives all over with Scripture 
quotations. 

Think of it again for a moment. Here was m}^ devoted 
father seeing his prayers answered in mine. I was just emerg- 
ing from youth to manhood. Would he trifle with me ? No ! 
Let me speak that word in tJiundcr tones, NO ! He loved me 
too well for that. It was the manner in which he began the 
Christian life, but it was not applicable to my condition. I 
wanted to be sa\'ed from sin, from myself, from the thralldom of 
my habits, and he did not understand me. Nor do men trifle 
in such circumstances. They do err, not knowing the Scrip- 
tures. 

I have shown from the Word of God. analogy, and my own 
experience, that each sinner's case is peculiar, and needs special 
direction, and that it is folly (if not worse) to attempt to answer 
the question, "What shall I do?" until the enquirer is under- 
stood. Sinners must be known, and to be known they must 
be studied. 

He points him to "The Wicket Gate, "but when the Pil- 
grim confessed he could not see it, he then advised him to follow 
the light he could see. Ah ! poor soul, if thou can'st not as yet 
see Christ, follow the light you can see;, and just as we can 
trace every beam of light to the suns, every rill to the ocean, 
every road to the metropolis, so surely will all moral and spirit- 
ual light lead thee to Him who is The Light of the world — the 
Sun of Righteousness. 

Another help is found in his common sense. He began to 
cry "What must I do?" Evidently he had read the book he 
held in his hand. Hence he did not crv "What shall I feel." or 



The Start. 39 

a 

"What shall I believe." a.s men are taught to do now. Such 
questions are not asked in the Scriptures. Men who are led by 
the Holy Ghost ask what they shall do, and then rejoice in One 
in whom they believe. Doing is not a deadly thing; it does 
not end in death ; it is a response to the breath of heaven ; it 
results in life. They that do the commandments are blessed ; 
shall have a right to the tree of life, and enter through the gates 
into the city. 

But he found his greatest help in his ozvn intense eajyiestness. 
Without this, Evangelist, the roll, the light are nothing. 

He began to run. "Now he had not run far from his own 
door, but his wife and children perceiving it. began to cry after 
him to return ; but the man put his fingers in his ears and ran 
on, crying, "Life! Life! Eternal Life!" 

His life was at stake, and that made him earnest. Would to 
God you would so start for heaven this night; that you realized 
the importance of saving your lives; that these thoughts would 
make you as earnest as he who cried "Life! Life! Eternal 
Life! 



LECTURE III 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND: THE WAV IN AND WAY OUT. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Obstinate, being unable to persuade Christian to 
return with Uni, goes back to his own house. Pliable and Christian pursue 
the journey bj' themselves. They spend the time in profitable conversation, 
wherein Cliristian instructs and delights the new pilgrim. It is chiefly 
concerning the glories of the city to which they tend, that they talk. Pliable 
is so delighted, that, after every statement of Christian's, he asks, "And 
what else ?" He becomes so eager, that he urges his companion to mend his 
pace. From this Christian was hindered by the burden on his back. They now 
reach a plain wherein is a morass called the " Slough of Despond,"' into 
which, as they were both heedless, they fell. Pliable grew angry, and after 
an effort or two got out the side nearest his own house, to which he imme- 
diately returned. Christian would have perished, but that One, whose name 
is Help, saw him and delivered him, set him on sound ground, and let him 
go on his way. This slough cannot be mended. For 1800 years the King's 
laborers have been trying to do so, but failed. It is Despond still. It is 
the place where the scum and filth that attend conviction ol sin do continu- 
ally run. Pliable, at home, is derided, mocked, and regarded as fool and 
coward. Presently he gained courage, and like many another, began to 
deride poor Christian behind his back.] 



BUNYAN calls his Pilgrim a Christian as soon as he had 
fairly started from the "City of Destruction;" long before 
he had seen or heard of the "Palace Beautiful." by which is 
meant the Church ; long before he reaches the Interpreter's 
house, which means that stage of Christian life in which a man 
receives a special enlightenment of God's Spirit ; even before 
he trod the narrow path or passed through the Strait Gate ; be- 
fore he had lost his rags or burden, he received the name of 
"Christian." ' 



The Slough of Despond. 41 

We have greatly advanced since the days of John Bunyan. 
Theology, the queen of sciences, like all other sciences, has 
advanced. We live in an age of advanced thought. Now, no 
man is called a Christian until he has joined the Church ; until 
he can give evidence of many subtle experiences, and becomes 
indoctrinated in the scholastic theology. We withhold the name 
until the Pilgrim shall be a guest instructed and armed in the 
Beautiful Palace. 

Are we right, or is Bunyan ? We conceive that his idea of a 
Christian was this: One who desired to leave a life of sin and 
live a life of righteousness ; who endeavored to leave the one 
and attain the other through Jesus Christ. Not merely one 
who had accomplished this, but also one who was struggling 
to do so. Just as we should classify a babe under the genus 
homo, so we classify all such under the generic term, •'Chris- 
tian." Here Bunyan and Wesley agree. The latter admitted 
to his societies any who expressed a desire to "flee from the 
wrath to come." 

Christian life begins at the lowest possible point. Its birth 
is always very feeble ; "Thou canst not tell whence it cometh, " 
for "it cometh not with observation." The lower we descend in 
the order of nature, the more perfect is the creature born ; the 
higher we go, the more imperfect does it commence its exist- 
ence. A fly is born a fly at once, wings, limbs, head, body, 
and all parts. It is ready for business the hour it is hatched. 
But it is not so with the dog, one of the most sagacious and 
intelligent of animals. It is born blind, helpless, stupid ; we 
have to keep him six months before he begins to learn, and an- 
other six before he is useful. According to the same law, the 
mind is less at birth than the body. It takes longer for the 
mind to mature than the flesh. If, then, by this law the 
lite of the spirit be higher than that of the mind or body, we 
ought not to be surprised to find it very feeble in its beginnings, 
and discovering it so feeble, acknowledge it to be Christian. 
We are, therefore, willing to call any man a Christian, whatever 
his past life may have been, or his present difficulties are, al- 
—6 



42 Lecture III. 

\va\'s pro\'ided that he is seeking the way of righteousness 
through faith in Christ. 

Such, certainly, is the doctrine of Christ. His kingdom is 
composed of Httle children and child-like men. The one essen- 
tial of entrance thereto is child-likeness. "Verily I say unto 
}'ou, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little 
child, shall in nowise enter therein." These words are very 
plain and unmistakable. Unless you are willing to commence 
the Christian life just where \'ou commenced your ordinary life, 
at the weakest, most dependent, most ignorant point, you can 
in nowise enter therein. 

Let us suppose that a man wishes to enter the kingdom of 
Music. He is ignorant of notations, scales, sharps, flats, and 
everything else pertaining to the science. Now, if he wants to 
be a musician, he must begin to learn and perform just where a 
little child does. He must be treated as a child, for he is as 
ignorant and as skilless. If he objects to learn music because at 
his first attempt he cannot sing the Twelfth Mass or play the organ 
accompaniment, he cannot enter therein. The most ignorant 
tyro in music can teach him, and he must take the lowest place, 
or none at all. The music-teacher from the first calls such a 
disciple. A Christian must first be a Christian child. He must 
be born anew. So soon as his desires take a practical shape, he 
is regarded b)- Christ as one of His own. 

What is said of music may be said with equal truth of any 
other branch of art, of science and of literature. The laws by 
which a man proceeds to be a Christian, are the same as those 
b\- which he must become anything else; but to be a Christian 
he is moved by a Higher and Holier Spirit. 

All the great Christians, such as Paul and John, Arguntin. 
Luther, \\'}-ckliff. Wesley, Whitfield, Howard. Knox. Spur- 
geon. Muller; — yea, each one began as a little child. And this 
is the secret of their greatness. 

Think for a moment of Galileo, Corpernicus. Newton. Fara- 
day, Young. Agassiz, Tyndall. Dana and Dawson ; names 
mightv in science, at one time knowing no more about it than 



The Slough of Despond. 43 

, • 

we do. They had to begin as little children. This is the secret 
of their greatness, their great discoveries, and the great benefits 
given by them to the world. In the light of this eternal law, 
may I not beg of you to enter the kingdom of God as little 
children. 

Let us now proceed to follow the fortunes of our Pilgrim. 
Obstinate has turned his back on his neighbors and gone 
home. Christian and Pliable attempt the journey together. 
They spend their time in profitable conversation, and both are 
helped. All went well until they came to a very miry siough, 
which they had not observed, and into which they both tumbled. 
Pliable struggled out, in high dudgeon, on the side nearest his 
own city, and returned; Christian was helped out the side next 
the Wicket Gate, and went on. 

"The Slough" is a piece of rural scenery which Bunyan has 
wrought with consummate genius into his "dream." Scores of 
times in his wandering life he had to ford such boggy places. 
"The lily-bordered Ouse" upon which he looked through the 
grating of his cell, may have suggested the Slough, and the for- 
tunes of the travelers in crossing it at low water, may have been 
the material out of which he has produced the misfortunes of 
his Pilgrim. You have possibly seen such. The prairies abound 
in sloughs. This offensive place in nature is made the picture 
of as great an offense in Christian experience. Most pilgrims 
fall in ; some get out, but none without mire. 

If we want to see the thing in a Christian's history, we may 
refer to the life of Bunyan. It is that period when he believed 
he was not "elected," and made the foolish attempt to prove 
himself a Jew, because he believed all the Jews were chosen 
people ; when he believed he had no faith, and tried to work 
miracles to prove that he had ; when he gave up trying to be 
good, because he believed he had committed "the unpardonable 
sin." David must have suffered in like manner, for he tells us 
that he was delivered from the "horrible pit and miry clay." 
Saul of Tarsus was in the "slough" when he was three days 
without sight, neither did eat or drink. "It is the descent 



44 Lecture III. 

whither the scum and filth that attend conviction of sin do con 
tinually run. " It is the time when a man falls into himself, and 
finds only evil, and that continually. 

"Where hardly a human foot could pas?, 
Or a human heart would dare 
On the quaking turf of the green morass; 
His all he had trusted there." 

• There is a cause, or there are causes, of the sloughs that 
abound on the prairie. It is the business of the scientist to dis- 
cover, and when desirable, mend them. We propose to search 
for the cause of the Slough of Despond, and preach you out 
of it. 

In our last lecture we pointed out that the Pilgrim started 
under the influence of fear, and we defended the wisdom of his 
action. When it is the best motive the preacher can appeal to, 
and the only one left in the man (as is frequently the case), nei- 
ther is fool to do the best he can under the circumstances. 
But it is not the only motive that exists in Christian life. If 
alone, it will produce excess. It is a good stimulant, but like 
all stimulants, it leaves a corresponding depression. It is like a 
whip, a very good thing to start a stubborn horse with, but very 
poor corn to feed him on. 

An artist desires to produce a statue; for this purpose he 
goes to the quarry with gunpowder, drill and match. With these 
he blasts the rock, and gets a block suitable for his purpose. 
Does he now use more gunpowder? No ; he applies the chisel, 
and produces a model of art, resembling a thing of life. But 
you see he does very little of it with gunpowder. It is useful 
at the beginning, but would be destructive at the end. Now, 
unless stimulants give place to food, there can be no agreeable, 
healthy life; unless the whip gives way to care and corn, there 
can be no useful horse; unless gunpowder is quiet while the 
chisel performs its mission, there can be no statue; and unless 
fear of punishment gives way to faith in Christ, there can be no 
success in the Christian pilgrimage. 



The Slough of Despond. 45 

These are but illustrations. Come to actual experience. 
Let us suppose that a revival will occur "in this city this winter. 
What do we expect? We deliberately calculate on a great 
falling away. So many will be moved by the ministry of fear, 
that, unless that is followed by the ministry of faith, the de- 
clension is inevitable. 

There is a great and vital difference between galvanism and life ; 
and yet a subject galvanized, though dead, may look like life. 
Place the poles of a battery on any particular organ of the brain 
of a corpse, and it will open its eyes and mouth ; move its limbs 
at your pleasure; but take away the current, and the corpse will 
fall back to the grave. 

But when a man lives, he has something behind and beneath 
the mere appearance of life. His life may be as feeble as a 
babe's, but it is life, and the life of a babe is better than the 
electrified movements of a corpse. Many converts are magnet- 
ized by singing, oratory and sympathy. But unless this gives 
place to faith in Christ, like Pliable, they will go back to the 
City of Destruction ; and those that go on will go through the 
Slough of Despond. He that believeth on the Son hath life. 
But the ministry that never creates fear is barren of converts. 

We also saw that our Pilgrim was moved by Hope. Fear 
sent him from the City of Destruction ; Hope allured him to the 
Celestial City. He and Pliable spent their time in talking of the 
things hoped for; they became so much interested in the glories 
of the future, that they neglected the duties of the present, and 
so, by "being heedless, did both suddenly fall into the bog." 
They fell into this Slough, you see, under the undue influence of 
hope. Men frequently fail in consequence of this. If men of 
business send their thoughts too far into the future, give too 
many notes,, speculate too much, instead of watching the mar- 
kets and their finances closely, they quickly fall into "The 
Slough of Despond." Notice those men who are always going 
to do some grand thing in the future, and you will see that they 
frequently do some very foolish things in the present. They 
are too sanguine. It is bad policy to count your chickens be- 



46 Lecture III. 

fore they are hatched ; and it is equally unwise to think we are 
in heaven before we are well on the way. Let not him who 
putteth on the armor, boast as he that putteth it off Paul knew 
a man who was caught up into the third heaven, so entranced 
with the glory, that whether in the body or out, he could not 
tell ; he heard words which it is not lawful for man to utter on 
earth ; but that man came down to receive a thorn in his flesh 
and meet the buffeting messenger of Satan. Peter wanted to 
stay on Tabor, where it was good for men to behold the glory 
of the Master; but with his Master and companions, he had to 
descend for the humbler work of casting out devils and preach- 
ing the gospel. 

Suppose a farmer were to stand talking to his neighbors about 
the glorious harvest he expected ; his hopes would soon fall into 
despondency. The glorious harvest will not come by expecting 
it. The Celestial City is not attained by exciting one's hopes 
concerning it, but by carefully walking in the way of righteous- 
ness now. "Ponder well the paths of thy feet." 

In every little village with railroad, newspaper, saloon, fast 
horse, crushing tax, and other evidences of civilization ; with 
naught but a forge, grist-mill, school house, two hundred inhab- 
itants, four churches, and the deep mellow loam which the 
good Lord has been hoarding for ages, there are men to be 
found who believe that such a place must speedily become a 
second Chicago. Dear, hopeful souls, they hope against reason, 
and are speedily depressed; whereas if they would but just ac- 
cept the situation and toil on. they might grow wealthy. Hope 
must have good, deep and broad foundations, for we are saved 
by Hope. But a babe may have too much cordial, a. small 
ship may have too much sail, and a young Christian may be 
too sanguine. 

Just as the excess of good, solid, nourishing food may pro- 
duce disease, just as stimulants will produce depression, so sure- 
ly, and in like manner, will hope and fear (though in themselves 
good), if unduly administered and indulged, produce that state 



The Slough of Despond. 47 

of experience which Bunyan calls the Slough of Despond. 
Pliable was specially moved by hope. 

But there is a way out of this condition — indeed, there are 
two, one backwards, the other forwards; one on the side that 
lies nearest the Celestial City ; the other on the side nearest the 
City of Destruction. There is a right and a wrong way out. 
Which one will you take? 

There came to him (Christian) a man whose name was Help. 
He was helped out and put on to sound ground by this 
man. He is the Savior revealed under this name. He was on 
the look-out for Christian. He permitted him to fall into the 
Slough, but he did not permit him to perish there. The parable 
of the lost sheep and lost pieces of money, illustrates the fact 
that Christ seeks to save men. A little girl was asked during 
the Edinburgh revival, if she had found Jesus. ' 'I don't know, " 
she replied, "but I know he has found me." 

"Give me thy hand," said Help. Christian did so. and was de- 
livered. This means that you are just to trust yourself and your 
case, with all its peculiarities, to Christ. It is His work to save; 
it is yours to trust him. Think of Christ. Just as thinking of 
your condition in the light of conscience, universal law, and the 
Word of God, makes you wretched, so thinking of Christ and 
trusting in Christ, will make you joyful. You may get out of 
the Slough by transferring your thoughts from yourselves to 
Him, if in your thoughts you completely trust Him. 

Despondency takes many forms. A remarkable case is that 
of Robert Hall's mother. During the latter years of her life she 
was subject to most distressing spiritual despondency ; she was 
convinced that she would be lost, and no arguments or pleas 
seemed to alter her belief On one occasion she took her hus- 
band's watch, which hung in her chamber, and said. "I need 
not regard time; I am entered on an eternal state of suffering;" 
and throwing the watch with vehemence on the floor, she ex- 
claimed, 'T am as surely damned as that watch is broken!" But 
the watch was not broken ; and seeing this, she said with amaze- 
ment and with tears, ' 'Well, if God save me, all Heaven will be 



48 Lectuke hi. 

astonished ; and none will wonder at his unparalleled mercy as 
myself. 

In a tow weeks, however, i\er despondency returned. Ag^viin 
she snatched up the watch, and thinking she had not before 
thrown it with sufficient force, she dashed it with the utmost 
violetice across the room. But thougfh the enamel had been 
cracked by an accidental tall some years before, it now received 
no further injury, even the glass w.as unbroken, and not the 
least apparent damage had been done. 

On another occasion, two persons were left in charge ot Mrs. 
Hall, as it was feared si\e might commit suicide. But she elu- 
ded both of them, escaped unperceived from the house, and at 
length returned, to their great surprise, wet through. It was 
subsequently ascertained that she had flung herself into a deep 
pit. full of water. How she got out she could not tell ; but she 
said that while in the water the words sounded in her ears, 
'"Deliver my soul from going downi to the pit," 

And it w;is delivered. At evening time there was light; 
the darkness w^s exchang-ed for joy unspeakable and full of 
glory. Her husband records with the utmost gratitude and 
aftection the triumph of these last hours. * "Seating myself. " 
sii\'s he. • "on the other side of the chamber, slie waved her hand 
towiirds me. I returned to her and eag^erly taking hold of her 
hand, slie smiled. Siiying, "'Mercy I Mercy I Sweet Jesus I 
Mighty to save I Found in Him — living — dying — judgment?" 
So she ei\tered the s;\int's everlasting rest. 

Despondency ttkes many forms. I repeat, '*/ am mo/ ^Ittf- 
rt/," says one. And he goes about moaning and mouming. 
Well, how do you know you are not — supposing xour concep- 
tion of the doctrine to be the correct one ? I would not mourn 
about it until I knew. Go make your calling and election sure. 
If you are a candidate for eternal glory, you may. If you have 
an>" taith in the promise of God ; if you have desire to flee from 
the wrath to come. b\" walking in the way of righteousness ; if 
you really want to love God. and be taught of Christ, my im- 
pressivMi is that you may call yourselves one of *"the eiect." 



The Slough of DEsroNo. 49 

Would to Goil that all who think that they arc the elect of God, 
or the elite of Christendom, were like you. Rut look from that 
doctrine to Christ. Do not tj^et away from John III. to Romans 
IX. so quickl\'. Men are n<n saved by believing- one or all of the 
five points of Calvinism, nor by bein<^ Arminians; but by 
choosing Christ as Redeemer, Master, I*^xample, Lord. y\nd 
be sure you do not for<;"et that you cannot receive Him as Re- 
deemer, unless you receive Ilim also as Master, Example, and 
Lord. Me is a complete Savior, and He saves from hell, 
only as He saves from sin. If you would be saved from sin, 
you have the witness within that God has called you to new- 
ness of life. Certainly you arc not given over to a reprobate 
mind. 

"AVA 1 have sinned against the Holy Ghost,'' says anotlu-r; 
"therefore I am unpardonable." I do bless God that the sin 
against the Holy Ghost is not clearly revealed. No school of 
divines agree as to what it is precisely. But it seems a very 
improbable thing for any man to do. h>om the penalty attached, 
it would seem to be the least likely sin that a man would 
commit. If you have a desire to repent; if you would if you 
could live holily, you are y(^urselves living proof that the Holy 
Ghost has not left you; if, in looking to Christ, you can see in 
Him any love and beauty; if He is still desired by thee, you 
may put the despondency from your soul. You have«^/ sinned 
against the Holy Ghost. 

But, .says another, "7/" I begin I cannot keep on T How do 
you know? Did you ever try? Thousands as bad as you, as 
weak as you, have tried to keep on. and succeeded. Babes keep 
on by growing. Last summer I spoke to a poor paralyzed drunk- 
ard about commencing the life. "I would," said he, "but I 
can't continue." I assured him he could, if he would be pa- 
tient enough to take a step at a time, and every one in advance. 
The poor harlot would often turn from her life of shame, but 
knowing the power of carnal desire and the obstructions of 
modern society, fears that she cannot keep on. My brother 
and sister, you can if you will. Trust your case to Help; to 

—7 



50 Lecture 111. 

the One who is mighty, and you will succeed, for He is mighty 
to save. "He is able to keep you from falling, and to make all 
grace to abound toward you ; that you, always having all suffi- 
ciency in all things, may abound in every good work." "Believe 
ye that He is able to do this?" I knew an invalid who, in his 
own opinion and that of his friends, could not walk a hundred 
steps. But, when leaning on the arm of a friend, out in the 
sunshine, strength and energy came with every succeeding step, 
and he would walk a mile, each step growing stronger and 
lighter. He seemed to walk the disease out of him. So do ye. 
Lean on the Mighty One. ' 'Trust in Him with all thine heart, 
and lean not to thine own understanding," and you will find, in 
the sunlight of His love, strength and energy return. But 
always lean on Him. His name is Help. 

But another says: ''I am too bad to be saved.'' Now, that is 
not true. You who say that with any regret, are not. That 
tone of regret is music in heaven. Are you sorry that you are 
so bad? Bless God; that is godly sorrow, and it will yet work 
repentance to life. Too bad ? Will you say that, with the ex- 
ample of the unclean and bloody David, lecherous Magdalene. 
craven Peter, blaspheming Saul, before you ? Will you say that 
you are too bad, with the parable of the Prodigal in your mem- 
ory ? You may be a very great sinner, but Christ is a very 
great Savior. You are not too bad. When Mr. Whitfield was 
once preaching, he said, in the excitement of the moment, that 
"God received the devil's castaways." The next morning at 
breakfast. Lady Huntington expressed her doubts both as to the 
propriety of this expression, and its theology. Whitfield adhered 
to his statement. Just at that moment he was summoned to 
the door, where stood a daughter of shame. "Oh, sir, ' she 
said, "I heard you preach, yesterday, that God received the 
devil's castaways. I have come to know if it is true. I am one 
such ; I have lived a life of sin. Man has thrown me off; yes- 
terday I was sent into the fields to die. Will God take me?" 
Whitfield led her into peace through faith ; the Countess was 
convinced, and the poor woman lived and died a restored soul. 



The Slough op^ Desponu. 51 

None of you have sinned like that ; if you had, T should still 
preach these delightful words: "Wherefore He is able to save 
to the uttermost all that come to God by Him," and ask you to 
sin<;' with me — 

" None but josus can do helpless sinners good." 



It may be almost necessary to say that the Slough is not 
essential to salvation. I say this, because I find some men and 
women who apparently feel at home in it. We find men in very 
morbid conditions; there is neither sense nor grace in them. If 
we heard of a city visited by cholera or some fatal epidemic, 
or a locality where miasmatic poison was prevalent, we would 
keep away, and remain at home, where it was healthful. A 
man would be scarcely sane to delight in such places. They are 
not necessary ; indeed, they are fatal to health. 

There are some Christians who emit nothing but miasmatic 
disease among those who are seeking Christ. They demand 
experience. I was once told that I could not be saved until I 
could say that I was the chief of sinners. Well, I never could 
tell that lie. A system of theology popular not many years 
ago, made it an item of salvation that the sinner should be wil- 
ling to be damned, if God decreed it. Religious, and espe- 
cially devotional books, are full of this deadly poison. It is 
not the will of God that any man should be in this condition. 
We shall meet with Pilgrims who escaped it. You may also. 
Men are not saved by looking within themselves, but unto Jesus, 
the author and finisher of faith. You will not be saved by 
thinking how bad you are, but how gracious He is. 

Neighbor Pliable was very angry with Christian when he fell 
into the bog. After a struggle or two he got out on the side 
next his own house, and Christian saw him no more. When 
he reached home his neighbors visited him ; some applauded 
him. some mocked, some called him fool and coward, and thus 
he sat "sneaking" among them. Then, with the others, he 
began to deride Christian behind his back. 



52 Lecture III. 



He got out the wrong side, nearest his own home. That is 
the wrong way out, for it is the way back. How many of you, 
my friends, are but Hke him ? Oh ! how have you gone back ! 
Had you but been faithful to your convictions ; had you but 
been led by the Spirit of God, you might have been far on the 
road by this time. But you are in the world, of the world, 
living for the world, disquieted within, reckless, unhappy, dis- 
satisfied ; with cravings for higher things, which you know not 
how to satisfy ; hardly respecting yourselves for your want of 
faith or courage in not living according to the light that God has 
given you. Possibly derided by some who knew your his- 
tory, secretly despised by them, too, just as you despise others 
in your own condition ; and then, it may be, in your turn deriding 
good Christians behind their backs. ' 'And thus much concern- 
ing Pliable," and you. 

But there is something worse than "The Slough of Despond, " 
into which men fall. I mean conceit. Let the drowning man 
say he needs no rope ; the invalid that he needs no physician ; 
the lonely, to whom life is like a dark cave that gives not back 
an echo even, say that they need no friend. When they do 
that, you may say you have no need of Christ. A man may be 
saved if he falls into Despond, but if he falls into Conceit, there 
is more hope of a fool than of him. 



LECTURE IV, 



MB. WORLD L V- WISE MA N. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Christiau, aloue, walks laboriously aloiio- in conse- 
quence of the burden on his back, towards the Wicket Gate, as he was direc- 
ted by Evangelist. He now meets with Mr. Worldly- Wiseman, who has 
heard of his pilgrimage. This gentleman interests himself in him, inquires 
concerning his family, sympathizes with him, gains his ear, and then pro- 
ceeds to administer "wholesome advice." He describes the way in which 
Christian is traveling, as being exceptionally troublesome ; casts aspersions on 
Evangelist, and the Book which he has in his hand, and succeeds finally, by 
many brilliant promises, in turning The Pilgrim from the way to the town of 
Morality, where he may be eased from his burden, by Mr. Legality or his son 
Civility. Christian essays to take this advice, but to reach the town of 
Morality he has to pass a veiy high hill. When he came to do so he was 
much affrighted, for part of the hill that stood nearest the way-side did hang 
so much over, that Christian thought it would fall on his head. Then tliere 
came flashes of fire out of it, and Christian was afraid he would be burned. 
His burden here seemed heavier than before. He now feels sorry that he 
took the advice of Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. Evangelist coming to the rescue, 
Christian is heartily ashamed of himself. He receives the reprimands of the 
good man with becoming meekness. Evangelist then proceeded to give him 
good counsel, and to show Christian his mistake, which might have been 
fatal. The Pilgrim being penitent, "Evangelist kissed him, gave him one 
smile, and bid him God speed."] 



BISHOP WILBERFORCE was once asked whether he knew 
the way to heaven. "Oh yes," rephed the witty prelate. 
"I have known it from a child ; take the first turn to the right, 
and then keep straight on." A better answer has never been 
given. 

Our Pilgrim has taken that "turn to the right," and has been 
going "straight on," notwithstanding various efforts on the 



54 Lecture IV. 

part of neighbors and friends to shake his purpose. He has 
heroically forded the Slough of Despond ; his courage has won 
our sympathies. But what his friends, by tears and entreaties, 
failed to do, will be attempted by one who appears to be wise, 
and looks like a gentleman. He will not attempt to turn him 
back, but will turn him aside. He knows that Christian cannot 
now go back to the City of Destruction, but he is as hostile to 
Christ as were the ignorant neighbors ; therefore he employs 
his craft to deceive. Being a Worldly-Wiseman, he knows that 
the current of a river and a beam of light cannot be sent 
back, but they can both be turned from their direct course. So 
he employs his energies to turn Christian out of the way. 

Behold our Pilgrim, with burden, rags, book, and the mud of 
the Slough of Despond on him, going laboriously onward, with 
sighs, groans and tears. He is alone. Pliable has returned. Help 
has performed his mission, and is possibly helping another poor 
soul out of the Slough. He is just in the condition for sympa- 
thy and temptation. Just at this moment Mr. Worldly-Wise- 
man accidentally, apparently, but really by design, meets him. 
He knows him by his guise, for Christian's setting out has been 
much talked of. He sympathizes with him, gains his attention, 
and then, by advice and brilliant promises, succeeds in turning 
him from the way that leads to the Wicket Gate, whither he has 
been directed by Evangelist ; to the town of Morality, that he 
may be rid of his burden at the hands of Mr. Legality, or his 
son Civility. 

The whole of his arguments amount to these two proposi- 
tions: 

First — That the way to the Celestial City is essentially one of 
sorrow. 

Second — That Mr. Legality can ease pilgrims of their bur- 
dens. 

As all sinners who seek Christ will meet with much of this 
worldly- wisdom, and as it will have the effect, if listened to. of 
turning them from Christ. I shall reduce the propositions to plain 
statements, available for our purpose. 



Mk. Wokluly-Wiseman. 55 

M. 

First — The world thinks and says that the Christian Hfe is an 
unhappy one. 

Second — That men can be saved by doing the works of the 
law. 

I meet these statements by a most emphatic denial. The 
Christian life is not unhappy. Sinners cannot be justified or 
saved by doing the works of the law ; by Civility, Legality, or 
Morality. 

I. Christian life is not an unhappy one. 

"Get rid of thy burden, for thou wilt never be settled in thy 
mind till then: nor can'st thou enjoy the benefits of the bless- 
ings which God has bestowed upon thee till then ;" quoth World- 
ly-Wiseman. 

Quite true, sir! so far we agree. 

"There is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the 
world, than is that unto which he hath directed thee, and that 
thou shalt find if thou wilt be ruled by his (Evangelist's) counsel. 
Hear me, I am older than thou. Thou art like to meet with, in 
the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, 
perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a 
word, death, and what not." 

Partially true in the letter; absolutely false in the spirit, Mr. 
Worldly- Wiseman. Here we disagree, and must part company. 
I affirm the opposite. The Christian's life is essentially happy. 

We appeal to the Scriptures. 

When Christ began to unfold the conditions and laws of the 
kingdom of God, He sat down and taught men, saying, 
"Blessed. " The word has never been changed. It is the chief 
word in the vocabulary of Christian experience. Its force is 
intense. It is all-comprehensive. Until he used it, men had 
described the condition of their gods, demigods and heroes in 
elysium thereby. They had never applied it to any men. They 
thought, as many do now, that a man's happiness here consists 
in his possessions, either mental or material ; the experience of 
the world, notwithstanding. But Christ took a word sacred to 



56 Lecture IV. 

their highest conceptions of bliss, and used it as being the only 
appropriate one, to convey an idea of the Blessedness of 
being humbie-minded, pure-hearted, meek, merciful, righteous, 
peaceful. Happiness arises from certain spiritual conditions. It 
is a fountain of living water, which flows from the midst of a 
man. It is absolutely inseparable from them as is heat from 
fire, light from the sun, beauty and perfume from the rose. 

But in my appeal to the Scripture, I must not forget that 
other words are used in connection with the Christian life ; 
'•trial," "tribulation," "anguish," "sorrow," "persecution," 
"peril," "death," and many others. No true history of Chris- 
tian living could be recorded without the use of one, or per- 
haps all of them. 

"In the world ye shall have tribulation," says Christ. Right- 
eous men, says Paul, ' 'had trial of cruel mockings and scourg- 
ings, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned, sawn 
asunder, were tempted, slain with the sword, were destitute, 
afflicted, tormented ; they wandered in deserts, and in moun- 
tains, and caves of the earth. " ' 'These are they who came out of 
great tribulation," said the elder to John, of the white-robed, 
innumerable multitude who stood around the throne of God. 
The history of the Church confirms all this. And yet Christ 
says now, as he has from the beginning, "Come unto me all ye 
that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take 
my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly 
of heart; and ye shall find rest \xx\\.o your souls. For my yoke 
is easy and my burden is light.'' These two classes of statement 
appear contradictory. They are, however, not even inconsist- 
ent with each other. 

It will be conceded that happiness is not dependent on circum- 
stances, but on interior conditions. The rich are not all happ\'. 
The votarv of pleasure is frequently most miserable. The poor 
are sometimes happy. The godly poor always are so. Kings 
wear crowns of gold before the public ; crowns of thorn before 
God. The rich appear to have all that heart can wish, but 
really have not satisfied their heart's desire. They may gratify 



Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. 57 

their lusts, but not satisfy their souls. They intend to build 
bigger barns and acquire larger stores, before they say: Soul! 
take thine ease ; eat, drink, and be merry. 

"AH the world's a stage, and 
Al! the men and women merely players." 

To US. who look on. the curtain seems plain ; to those who see 
it raised, there is either tragedy or comedy. No. no, my 
friends, happiness is so precious that God does not trust it to 
unstable materials ; He gives it to the soul alone. 

Christ, in his promise, says, "And ye shall find rest to your 
souls." He giveth peace, but not as the world giveth. He 
giveth rest and peace to the soul, from whence alone happiness 
can flow. Christ's yoke fits the nature of man exactly. Man 
was made for it, and it was made for man. The burden of 
Christian duties is light. "His commandments are not griev- 
ous." 

Let me suppose that one of you possess a very fine horse. 
You send him to the harness-maker's for a new set of harness, 
to be made expressly for him. It is made and on him. 
You are very particular to see that the collar fits ; that it does 
not chafe or irritate his neck or shoulders. Being satisfied with 
that, you attach him to a beautifully painted, well-constructed, 
light carnage. As you proudly survey the "turn out." you 
anticipate much pleasure, for the "yoke is easy and the burden 
is light." Now, let me further suppose that you attempt a 
journey through the streets of a certain city, which, for obvious 
reasons, shall be nameless. I think you will at once see, that 
although the "yoke is easy and the burden light." you will 
have to go through a great trial of mud. Your fine carriage is 
filthy, horse spent, and yourself disappointed. But it was 
not caused by either horse, yoke, or burden. Given proper 
conditions, the ride would have been enjoyable. Such exercise 
we all know to be exceedingly pleasurable. 

Now, a Christian life is like that. In itself it is all and more than 
Christ has promised it to be. The half has not been told, even 
by Him. Words are too few and too poor to describe it. It 
—8 



58 Lecture IV. 

has to be linked to the hoHest, best and richest things before a 
conception of it can be had. It has a peace which passeth all 
understanding. It gives a joy that is unspeakable and full of 
glory. But a Christian lives in a world opposed in its maxims, 
principles, and practice, to the life that Jesus lived and which He 
invites us to receive. Therefore, the life of a Christian in this 
world is attended by trial, for two cannot walk together unless 
they are agreed. 

This happiness is not arbitrarily bestowed. It is embedded 
in the nature of things. A Christian is a righteous man. No 
unrighteous man is a Christian. I don't mean that the right- 
eousness of another is by some pious fiction attributed to him. 
I do not use the word in any theological sense, but ask you to 
receive it as common sense suggests. He does right, and is 
therefore and thereby righteous. The word righteous is used 
to describe God's heroes, the Bible throughout. Only one kind 
of righteousness is acknowledged by God. But we have several 
kinds, or else one kind with different names, in our Church 
phraseology. That aside ; the righteousness of which I speak 
is of Christ and of God. It is wrought into the soul and life 
by the Holy Ghost. It comes unto and upon all that believe. 
The Christian is clothed with righteousness, not artificially, but 
really and naturally. We are acquainted with two different 
kinds of clothing — artificial and natural. That which we wear 
is artificial. We can put it on and off at pleasure. We can 
discard it; we can assume the dress of another. Cowards may 
dress like heroes; traitors like kings ; rogues like honest men ; 
sinners like Christians. But we know another kind that is not 
so easily removed. Out in the fields you see the sheep, the ox, 
the horse, the birds. They are all clothed with hair, wool, or 
feathers. Our artificial clothing is their legacy to us. Now 
look at the process by which they are clothed. They eat grass 
and corn and herbs ; it comes unto them in this way. They 
transform it into hair and wool and feathers; thus it comes upon 
them. So we receive Christ by faith. He is taken into the 
soul. He is the bread of our life; on Him and by Him we live. 



Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. 59 

We reproduce Him in righteousness of life, and in this way and 
not in any artificial manner, comes righteousness "unto and upon 
all who believe. " 

Not in fiction, but in fact, a Christian is a righteous man. 
Abel was Hghteoiis Abel ; Lot is called righteous Lot ; Abra- 
ham was righteous Abraham ; Noah preached righteousness. 
God would have spared the cities of the plain if ten righteous 
men had been found there. I dare say there were plenty 
■ of religious people in those cities, as there are and ever have 
been in all cities given up to iniquity. Job was a righteous, 
or rather a right-up man. 

Christ came to establish everlasting righteousness. He is the 
Sun of righteousness. His sceptre is a sceptre of righteous- 
ness. One of His first blessings was pronounced upon those 
who hungered and thirsted for righteousness. One of His first 
complaints was the little righteousness (not the religion) of the 
Scribes and Pharisees. He will bring in a new heaven and a 
new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. 

Look into the matter yourselves, my hearers, and you will 
see it is righteousness, and not religion, that is acceptable 
to God. The fervent, effectual prayer of a righteous man avail- 
eth much with God. Christianity, then, is no substitute for 
righteousness; its foundation is righteousness; it does not over- 
turn the throne of the Eternal, nor give society over to law- 
lessness. When a sinner goes to God for pardon. He sends 
him back to his fellow-man. ' 'Therefore, if thou bring thy gift 
to the altar and rememberest that thy brother hath ought against 
thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way ; Jij-st 
be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." 
God cannot establish iniquity by law or by gospel. 

All the joys of righteousness — of being right and doing right 
— are his. The fruit of righteousness is peace and assurance 
forever. His peace flows as a river, because his righteousness 
abounds as the waves of the sea. 

A Christian is more than righteous ; he is a good man. 

There is a distinction to be made between them. "Scarcely 



6o Lecture IV. 

for a righteous man will one die ; yet, peradventure, for a good 
man some would dare to die." A man may be righteous, just 
in all his dealings, correct in behavior, and xet not be generous 
or kind. On the other hand, a man ma}- be v^ery generous, be- 
nevolent, and beneficent, and yet not be righteous. A follower 
of Christ unites the two. His deeds are good works. He 
therefore possesses the jo\s that flow from goodness, and learns 
practically that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
Take the element of mercifulness — 

"The quality of mercy is not strained; 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the placj ber.eath : it is twice blessed ; 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." 

This is one of the elements of a Christian's life. We often 
express our joy at being forgiven ; we have received mercy; but 
this joy is not worthy of being compared with the blessedness of 
forgiving. I am never forgiven without a sense of shame, in 
consequence of my sin. I am ashamed to have to be forgiven. 
There is a privilege greater than that ; I mean the Divine ap- 
proval. Now, when I am merciful, when I forgive an enemy, 
I am enriched and ennobled in my spirit ; I rise above the ven- 
geance of my animal nature to actions and feelings akin to the 
Eternal God, whose son I am ; Who is ever blessed, because 
all-merciful, and ever ready to forgive. Being thus reconciled to 
God in my life, I can rejoice with jo\- unspeakable and full of 
glory. 

I have reasoned from Scripture and natural law that it is a 
mistake on the part of Worldly- Wiseman to suppose that a 
Christian's life is essentially sorrowful. But. perhaps, we have 
conveyed such an impression. If so, we are to blame. 

Puritanism is not Christianitx'. Do we not rather seek to 
puritanize the Church, than to make it righteous through Christ. 
The Puritans were Christians, and so were many others who 
were diametrically opposed to them in faith and manner of life. 
Christian life is not made up of stern visage, rigorous self-denial. 



Mr. Wokldy-Wiseman. 6i 

__• 

silent Sabbath-s. and arbitrary habits. A puritan is like a pho- 
tograph ; it is a picture of life in one mood. But we are 
not always wearing one facial expression ; not always smirk- 
ing, smiling, sour, or stiff and awkward. We are not always 
in a ridiculous posture, flattering ourselves that we are the cen- 
tral figure of a work of art No. Life would be intolerable if 
it were so. There are many expressions of the human face 
divine, and many facets of the Holy Life. 

Ritualism is not Christianity. By ritualists I mean ail those 
who pay excessive attention to worship. It is our duty to wor- 
ship God with becoming reverence and appropriate forms. But 
there is no piety in multiplying them. There is often a wicked 
waste of money and idle superstition in doing so. I fail to see any 
righteousness or mercy in making long pilgrimages, multiplying 
fasts, becoming learned in genuflections, making prayers, whether 
we desire the things for which we pray, or not. Worship is but 
one form and feature of the life of Christ's followers. It should 
always be spiritual ; never formal and mechanical. 

Perhaps those who think that the life we desire you to lead is 
joyless, have attended a prayer-meeting when a good brother 
addressed the Divine Being in elongated vowels and nasal 
consonants ; when another spoke in sepulchral tones of the blessed 
promises, and anticipated death, as if he were afraid of it; when 
another defended his faith against hosts of deadly heresies, of 
which nobody knew and nobody cared ; and when the gracious 
Father was praised in long-metre dirges. Perhaps he was taken 
to such a meeting when a boy, and is too much of a true Chris- 
tian to return. 

Or he may have been to some public service where the choir 
did all the singing; where men loved God so much that they 
praised Him by proxy; where, instead of the congregation 
shouting in thunder tones to the God of glory, and coming into 
His presence with gladness and a voice of triumph, a solo was 
substituted, which was sung correctly, as becometh a profes- 
sional. And the pastor, if he were an old fogy, read a long, 
dry essay on predestination ; and if he were a young fogy, one 



62 Lecture IV. 

of the same kind, on "e\-olution, '" or tlie "survival of the fittest. " 
And tne eongregation fell asleep, and were refreshed thereby ; 
awoke to receive a benediction, for which they had paid ; dis- 
persed, much too respectable and too cultured to speak as 
Christ would have done to the strangers or the young. • There 
are congregations like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner; the ship 
in a deaci smooth, cairn sea, and every man on board a corpse. 
From such burlesques on Christianity he infers that Christians 
are unhappy mortals ; and well he may. They may have a peace 
which the world can neither give nor take away ; but he finds 
it hard to believe it, and therefore is not attracted thereto. 

But there is another cause for his inference. Christianity is 
theoretically opposed to sin, and he finds pleasure in sin. He 
naturally prefers a life which he knows to be pleasurable, to one 
of which he has just suspicion. Brethren, we ought not to 
allow such impressions. If we would but spend half as much time 
in being Christians as we do to be orthodox on the one hand, 
or liberal on the other, we should rejoice in the Lord always ; 
we should serve Him \\ith gladness. If Christian life be whole- 
hearted, unrestrained, generous love to God and man ; if this 
love be as steady as the sunshine, and yet as impulsive as the 
song of birds, there can be no essential sorrow in it. Oh ! for a 
religion o\' love, instead of metaph}'sics ; of the heart, head, and 
hand, insteaci of the head without either; a religion in which 
bod}', soul, and spirit will be freely given to God in sacrifice and 
service! Oh ! for a Church built on Christ — with Christ, and not 
a creed for its chief corner-stone ! Oh I for a Church of men, and 
not of doctrinaires, wherein the preacher, learneci in the Word 
of God anci taught b>- the Holy Ghost, shall take of the things 
of God and shew them unto the disciples, who. in their turn, 
shall 

"Sing their cheerful songs 
With angels round the throne.'' 

My friends, in the name of the religion of Christ, I den\- the 
first assumption of Worldly Wiseman. 



Mk. Worluly-Wiseman. 



Let us now address ourselves to the consideration of the se- 
cond proposition : 

II. No sinner can he saved by the deeds of the law. 

Worldly-Wiseman taught that he could. He therefore sent 
our Pilgrim to Mr. Legality, or to his son Civility, to get rid of 
his burden, and advised him to dwell henceforth in the town of 
Morality. His teaching amounts to this, and is equal to that 
which we can hear on the streets any day. "Be moral ; do no- 
thing excessively wicked, and all will be well." Man's need of 
salvation is not recognized, and a Savior is ignored. This is 
wordly wisdom. It may be that it is foolishness with God. 
Understand me, God cannot make it foolish if it is not so. But 
if it ignores any fact, or is contrary to any universal principle, 
it is presumptions folly. 

We are all under law. We cannot escape from it. No one 
can or does, on earth, in heaven or hell ; neither Christian, 
pagan. Jew, gentile, child, devil, angel. God governs, and 
works by law. 

Law is the rule by which God's forces accomplishes their pur- 
poses. Beneficence is in all His works. Love is the soul of the 
universe. The laws are the lines on which His love advances ; 
the features through which His soul shines. Blessing and curse 
are the natural and not arbitrary result of keeping or transgres- 
sing law. 

Christian and pagan unite in saying "We are His offspring." 
We are the children of Him whose law is holy, just and good. 
It is ordained to life. In keeping His commands there is great 
reward. They are not grievous. In infinite wisdom and love 
hath He ordained the rules of life. They are adapted to our 
nature, and secure our welfare. Disobedience to them perverts 
the order of nature. Let the sun rise in the west and set in the 
east ; let day be changed to night ; let heat freeze and cold burn, 
and you thereby will not procure anything more unnatural than 
sin. 

It is unnatural to sin. We are under moral law; that 
law is beneficent in its designs ; it is written in our souls ; it is 



64 l.KCTURK IV. 

ing^ined in our nature. K\ on the heathen, who posi^ess not 
our Scriptures. ;ire a law unto themselves. Sin. which is the 
transgression of the laAv. is therefore unnatural. All God's laws 
presuppose perfection. Not one is adapted to bless a sinful 
being'. Sin destroys the sinner ; its tendency is to shorten and 
embitter life; it degrades a man: the greater the sinner the less 
the man. From these premises we conclude and state that sin 
is unnatural. 

Hefore we can realize what sin is. we must have clear ideas of 
the law. The law is expressed in many ways. It is detailed 
into negative and positive commands, as given by Moses. Its 
principle is revealed by Christ : * *Thou shalt /e>f v the Lord th\' 
God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
mind, and with ail thy strength. This the first commandment. 
And the second is like, »<w/*-/i\ this, thou shalt love thy neighbor 
as thyself, there is none other commandment greater than these. " 
Here the principle of the law is love ; the degree of it is with 
a// thy heart, strength, soul, and mind to God ; and as th\-self 
to th\* neighbor. Love is the fulfilling of the law. The end of 
the command is ch.irity out of a pure heart. He that loveth 
hath fulfilled the law. IVactically it is not in word or thought, 
but in deed and in truth. It is to '*do unto others all things 
whatsoever ye would that tliey should do unto you." This is 
the law. the prophets and the rule of gospel life. For it we 
have the example of Christ, who came not to destroy, but ful- 
filled the law by loving and giving Himself for us. For it we 
have "Our Father;"' **for (.Tod is love; and he that dwelieth in 
love, dwelieth in God and God in him." 

To love God and man. then, is the law. Any deviation from 
this is sin; "'Sin is the transgression of the law." "All un- 
righteousness is sin. " "He that knoweth to do good and doeth 
it not. to him it is sin." Sin is therefore both positive and neg- 
ative. It is not only evil done, it is good undone. 

Wo are all under this law; it is our privilege, interest and 
dut\- to he obedient thereto ; it is at our peril if we are disobe- 
dient. Now let us. who are under the law, hear what it s;i\-s: 



Mk. W()Ki.ni.\- Wi.si-:man. 6$ 



It says, "Cursed is cvrry one that continueth not in a// tliint^s 
which are written in the book of the hiw, to do them." Pay 
particular attention to the phraseoh)j^y of the quotation, please. 
The curse is pronounced upon (-t'c/y one that continueth not in 
rt://thin<^s. Let us suppose a case. A man has lived in our city 
for fifty years. Hitherto he has preserved his integrity, his 
reputation is untarnished. Hut he falls ; he commits some 
crime. At first his conscience makes him look back on the fifty 
years of unspotted life, and then holding up to him his sin, says, 
"Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things that are 
written in the law." Ilis apprehension by the sheriff, the indict- 
ment laid against his fair fame ; the manacles on his wrists ; the 
boys, who wontleringly follow him to prison ; his enemies, who 
leer on him in his dishonor; his friends, who always thought 
"he was not quite what he professed to be, who never had any 
faith in him," but who sat at his table, and were once dependent 
on his favor, say to him most emphatically, "Cursed is every 
one that continueth not in a/l things that are written in the law." 
The grating of the cell, {)rison fare, criminal notoriety, the tears 
of wife, the disgrace of children, trial as a felon, evidence, ver- 
dict, sentence, public opinion, life-long disgrace, banishment, 
a convict's home, a convict's death, and a convict's grave, 
pronounce him "Cursed who continueth not in ^//things that are 
written in the law. " 

Let us take the case of another. He is not a criminal. He 
has done naught for which the law of our courts can punish him. 
But he has lived for himself; he will see that right is done to 
him ; he grows rich, has amassed gold, made it his god, and 
grown as cold and hard as it. The widow and orphan appeal 
to him in vain. Benevolent enterprises find in him no support. 
He grows old, and no one loves him. Hired sycophants sur- 
round him. The absence of love is a curse on him who has not 
continued in all things that are written in the law to do them. 
He has known to do good ; has had the means and opportunity 
to do so, but has neglected to do it: and widows' wails and 
orphans' cries; hungry, ragged, ignorant men; the fawners 
—9 



66 Lecture IV. 

who wait for his death, and rear a monument, whicli they 
grudge, over liis grave, say, "Cursed is everx' one that contin- 
ueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law to 
do thi'm. 

You see, ni)- friends, the law under which we li\'e condemns us; 
the law that is written on our hearts and built in our being, and 
which is transcribed from us to the Bible, condemns us. Visit 
the best law library this land or this world affords; read des- 
criptions of various felonies and misdemeanors, and after you 
have read, you will find the sentence due to the guilt as- 
sumed; that is, the condemnation. Rut nowhere, not on a 
single page, will you find a line or a word that speaks of appro- 
val or forgiveness. And these ; condemnation, forgiveness, or 
approval, are the issues to which our lives bring us. 

Take another case. Here is a man who has sinned, and he is 
conscious of his fault ; also, that the evidence is clear against 
him, and if presented, will convict him. What does he? He 
hires the most unscrupulous attorney in the profession ; buys up 
the other side, if possible ; objects to every righteous man on 
the jury; provides false witnesses; perjures himself, and at- 
tempts to bribe the judge! Why? History and conscience tell 
him that law condemns the guilty, and he needs a deliverer. 
Therefore the law says to such, "Ye cannot be justified b}- the 
works of the law." The term sinner implies condemnation. 

"Consider this — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation."* 

One sin is an eternal fact. It can never be disannulled. The 
king who stood on the sea-shore, and commanded the wa\-es 
to roll back, was not more foolish and ignorant than he who 
thinks that because he forgets his sins they are destroyed. The 
consequences will surely come. Justice is stern and unrelent- 
ing. The law is holy. He who sins to-da\- may not be pun- 
ished to-day. But so soon as his guilt is ripe, justice passes 
sentence, the holy law strikes the blow. 



* Shakespeare. 



Mk. WokLDI.Y-WlSEMAN. 6/ 

Our law courts are but the transcript of the human heart. 
All our law-books canne out of man. They are his inner sense 
translated into symbols. Judge, jury, dock, officers, are but 
shadows from the real spiritual court within. Man 

" Bears about 
A silent court of justice in his breast, 
Himself the judge and jury, and himself 
The prisoner at the bar, ever condemned."* 

Have I not proven that the law condemns the sinner. Can 
you suggest any hope of escape that it holds out? Is it possi- 
ble for any one to be saved by doing the works thereof? Are 
ye not condemned already? Have ye done — not have intended 
or wished or known that ye ought — but have you '"done to 
others all things whatsoever ye would they should do to you ?" 
Have you done it to wife, children, husband, merchant, buyer, 
friend? aye, even enemy? Have you given hospitality to 
strangers? fed the hungry? visited the sick? restored the 
erring? had compassion on the sinful? instructed the ignorant? 
been a friend to prisoners ? Have you loved God with all 
your heart? Have you loved your neighbor as yourseif? 
Have you really loved yourselves? Perhaps not that even. 
You may love your body (which, mayhap, after all, is not 
yours, but the butcher's, grocer's, and baker's,) enough to 
gratify its desires, feed it on luxuries, pander to its lusts, be 
vain of it, and even become its slave. But that is not to love 
yourself It is but to love the shop you work in. You may be 
proud of your mental calibre and acquirements, boast of your 
intellectual instruments, but that is not loving yourself, it is only 
loving the tools you work with. Thou art yet greater than they. 
Thou wilt exist when they perish. Dost thou love thyself? thy- 
self that wills and does; the Kgo, the I Am that thou art? If 
not, how mercilessly art thou condemned, even by thyself? 
Dost thou feel this condemnation ? Listen to the thunders of 
Sinai within ; God is in the thunder. Let its lightnings arrest thee, 
God has called thee by them to see thee face to face. Oh ! may 

* Tennyson. 



68 Lecture IV. 

He grant that thou mayest go from His presence with the law 
in thy hand and heart. 

Do }'Ou now wonder that Bunyan fixed the burning mountain 
close by the house of Mr. Legality, of the town of Morality, 
and that it thundered, lightened, and condemned the Pilgrim 
who attempted to pass it? "They are both of them a very 
cheat." 

These are the arguments on which I rest my denial of the 
assumption of Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. I must leave you to 
judge whether or no they are conclusive. 

For once and forever hearken not to the voice of the worldly- 
wise charmer ; charm he never so wiseh-. 



LECTURE V. 



THE WICKET GATE. 



[Synopsis OF Chapter. —Christian now made the best of his way from the 
threatening mountain to the Wieliet Gate. He speedily reached it. Over it 
was written "Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." He knocked, and a 
grave person, named Good-will, came to him and asked who was there? 
whence he came? and what he would have? Christian's answer being satis- 
factory, he was admitted, but just as he was entering, the other gave him a 
pull. The reason was explained to be that a little way from the gate 
was a strong castle, of which Beelzebub was the Captain, from which 
he and his minions shot arrows at those who came to the gate, if haply 
they might kill them before they entered in. Christian rejoiced at being de- 
livered, and, at the request of Good-will, related the incidents of his joiuiiey 
and the reasons of his pilgrimage. Good-will, in his turn, pointed out to 
him the way in which there are no "turnings or windings," that was cast up 
by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his apostles, and is as "straight as a 
rule can make it ;" and described it to him so well that he might distinguish 
it from others that abutted upon it. Then Christian desired to be re- 
lieved of his burden, but Good-will bade him be content, to bear it until he 
came to the place of deliverance, for then, said he, it will fall from thy back 
itself.] 



WE left our Pilgrim under Sinai, suffering from the condem- 
nation of the law. While there he "wot not what to 
do," and his burden seemed heavier than when he was on the 
way. He felt as we have sometimes, in sickness. We knew 
we were sick, but how much we could not tell until we sum- 
moned the physician, who made a diagnosis of our case, and 
pronounced upon our disease. The law analyzes the life ; it 
also reveals the incapacity of the sinner. It sits like an account- 



yo Lecture V. 

ant on a bankrupt's estate, who mercilessly putting down every 
cent that is owed, with every iota of assets ; without pity or sym- 
pathy states the result to the helpless merchant, and leaves him 
to rhe mercy of his creditors. His work is done in discovering 
and announcing the condition of affairs. After the bankrupt 
has paid all he has, he yet is a debtor, and has naught where- 
with to pay. So the law reveals our helpless condition. 

An invalid is incapable of doing the work of a man. A man 
whose faculties are trained in one direction, is incapable of em- 
ploying them in another. A man whose life has been disobe- 
dient, knows not how to obej' God. The habit has petrified 
into character. It is the experience of all who attempt to lead 
a virtuous life on the principle of obedience, that they fail. On 
this point let me read you a passage from Shedd's Sermons to the 
Natural Man : 

' 'There is no more touching poem in all literature than that 
one in which the pensive and moral Schiller portra\'s the strug- 
gle of the ingenious youth who would find the source of moral 
purification in the moral law; who would seek the power that 
can transform him, in the mere imperative of his own con- 
science, and the mere strugglings and spasms of his own will. 
He represents him as endeavoring earnestly and long to feel the 
force of obligation, and as toiling sedulously to school himself 
into virtue, by the bare power, by the dead lift of duty. But 
the longer he tries, the more he loathes the restraints of law. 
Virtue, instead of growing lovely to him, becomes more and 
more severe, austere and repellant. His life, as the Scripture 
phrases it. is under law and not under love. There is nothing 
spontaneous, nothing willing, nothing genial in his religion. He 
does not enjoy religion, but he endures religion. Conscience 
does not in the least renovate his will, but merely checks or 
goads it. He becomes wearied and worn, and conscious that 
after all his seif-schooling he is the same creature at heart, in his 
disposition and affections, that he was at the commencement of 
the effort, he cries out, "O Virtue, take back thy crown, and 
let me sin." 



The Wicket Gate. 71 



Thousands continue in sin because they know they have no 
power to obey. This is the condition in which pastors find 
men and women. The good they would do, they cannot. They 
hate and despise themselves. Drunkards would be sober, if 
they could. Men would be honest, liars would be truthful ; but 
they are too weak. 

If what I have .said is true; if the law condemns the sinner, 
finds him incapable of meeting its requirements, and leaves him 
as it found him, two things are clearly manifest; first, that the 
sinner needs a deliverance; second, he must look from the law 
to find it. 

This is what we preach. Blessed are the people who hear 
the joyful sound ! The law reveals the condition of the sinner; 
the gospel the condition of the law-giver. I said in the previ- 
ous Lecture that the law was love. God is love, and His law 
is the expression of it. But it does not follow because law 
expresses the mind of God, that therefore there is no other 
moral expression of Him. May He not be revealed in sac- 
rifice? 

Side by side these two features of God exist. The gospel 
is nothing new ; it is as old as the law. Most men think that 
the Gospel commences at the birth of Christ, and the law with 
Moses at Sinai. A few have traced it back through the Pro- 
phetic, Mosaic, Patriarchal, and Antediluvian age to Eden. 
Still fewer to the counsels of the Eternal. Let us go infinitely 
further back, to the existence of God Himself; for God is the 
Gospel. It is, then, no after-thought; with Him there can 
be none. He is never behindhand with His remedies. By the 
side of the poisonous herb grows its antidote ; with sickness are 
the means of recovery; in ignorance is the desire for learning. 
Before the child is born God has provided the mother. Before 
man was created, the world was made ready to receive him. But 
man is always behindhand. Thousands of ships strike the 
rocks of the ocean, and property and lives are lost before man 
erects the lighthouse ; thousands are wrecked before man con- 
structs the life-boat. Epidemics rage, and death sweeps the 



72 Lecture V. 

carnage to the grave before man discovers a cure. For centu- 
ries nations settle their difficulties by war, and so lose the 
strength, glory and honor of a people, before men think that it 
would be wise to settle the difficulty before the war begins. 
Cities are destroyed by fire before fire-engines are invented or 
fire-companies organized. It is not so with God. Before the 
ship was wrecked the life-boat was on the strand ; before the dis- 
ease struck the man. the remedy was prepared ; before the fire 
consumed He had pro\"ided a way of escape. Cotemporaneously 
with the possibility of His child perverting the law of His love, 
a Savior was provided ; not merely as a part of the plan of sal- 
vation, but as part of the constitution of nature. From ever- 
lasting to everlasting He is God. When, therefore. Evangelist 
found Christian at the burning mountain, it was not to strike the 
fatal blow, but to lead him from the condemnation which he 
inherited to the life of faith and love which God provided. To 
the sinner the law is destructive, the Gospel constructive. 

From the burning mountain he was directed by Evangelist to 
the Wicket Gate. This is one of the most disputable points of 
the allegory. Artists know not what to do with it. No two 
give the same idea of it in their works. It is variously repre- 
sented by them, while theologians have regarded it with feel- 
ings according to their doctrinal bias. 

Here is another piece of English scenery. If you walk along 
the country roads of "Merrie England." \-ou will frequenth' 
discover gates in the hedge- rows ; a porter" s lodge is erected 
close by ; over the gate you will find the armorial bearings of 
the proprietor, and frequently a motto, in English or Latin, the 
supposed principle on which the proprietor li\es. The public 
are not permitted to pass through them ; that privilege is limi- 
ted to the family, friends, servants, and those who do business 
with the proprietor. They are generally kept locked, and are 
opened only to such as I have mentioned. To enter the grounds 
through them without permission, is a trespass, and is punishable 
as such in the courts of law. These gates open into a straight, 
narrow, clean, direct path to the mansion. There is no legal 



The Wickkt Gate. 73 



way of getting to the mansion but by them. No doubt Bun- 
yan had often asked and been denied the favor of entering them. 
Men of his class were specially prohibited. In the feudal age 
they were protected by soldiers. 

I see the same idea in every street of this city, particularly in 
connection with the large houses. Before the door, in the 
fence, stands a little gate ; within the gate is a straight and nar- 
row (when compared with the avenue) path to your door. If 
one of them is attached to your property, you know that you 
have perfect control of it; you can open or shut it, lock or bolt 
it, at your will. By it you can and do keep your enemies off 
your property, and admit your friends. To such a simple con- 
trivance Bunyan, like his Master, attached most important 
truths and experiences. 

"The Gate" is an era in the Progress ; it is an end of one 
stage and the beginning of another. It separates the efforts of 
the Pilgrim to find the right way from his efforts to keep in the 
right way. 

The "Wicket Gate" is Jesus Christ. Just as your gate seems 
to say to the public, "No man goeth to the house but me," so 
he says: "No man cometh to the Father but by me." "I am 
the door." He exhorts us to lay aside all idle and curious 
questions and strive to enter into the Strait Gate. 

Perhaps nothing appears so much unlike Christ as a door or a 
gate. And yet He uses these most familiar uninspiring things to 
represent Him. 

I have said that near the English gate a porter lives. He is 
there to represent the feeling of the proprietor to friends and 
strangers. Therefore Bunyan. in describing the feeling of God 
to man, names the porter of this gate "Good-will." 

God's good-will is especially seen in the Gospel. When 
Christ first came to the earth to show by His life a new and liv- 
ing way to the Father ; when He removed all legal difficulties 
out of the way of salvation ; when He came to declare Himself 
not merely "the way," but the beginning of it, by saying, "I 
am the door; I am Alpha, the first, the beginning," the ever- 
— 10 



74 Lecture V. 

lasting doors of heaven gave way and angels sang "Good will 
to man." 

Good will is manifest in the inscription over the portal — 
"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Christian knocked 
again and again; and at last Good-will opened to him. The 
Divine Being who wrote and spake these words, fulfills them. 
What is knocking? It is a certain form of praying. Some- 
times, as we are sitting at our meals, we hear a slight tap at 
the door, and going to it, find a waif begging for bread. He 
has been praying with his fist on our door for entrance to our 
houses. When a friend comes to see us, he prays in the same 
way. The geologist goes with his hammer to the quarry, and 
knocks for days and months on the doors of the rocks. He is 
simply praying the earth to open her treasure-house to him. 
What the beggar, the friend, and the geologist do literally, you 
must do spiritually. The only difference is this: they pray by 
knocking, you must knock by praying. Ask Jesus Christ to 
save you. "Ask, and ye shall receive. " When you ask Christ, 
He and you are of the same mind, you cannot ask of Him 
without discovering that He is more willing to give than you to 
receive. 

God's good will is manifest in the kind words spoken to the 
Pilgrim. The Christian confessed his sin and weakness. But 
he was assured by Good-will of His complete welcome. "We 
make no objection against any, notwithstanding all they have 
done before they come hither. They are in no wise cast out ; 
therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will 
teach thee about the way thou mayest go. " I do wish we could 
get out of our minds the idea that God is a hard, austere, ma- 
levolent being. God is a loving Father. Christ is a loving 
Savior. He receiveth sinners. 

"A wretched Magdalene or Saul 
May find in Christ a home; 
Salvation is held out to all, 
Come, guilty sinner, come." 

The abundant welcome to sinners is the peculiar glory of the 



The Wicket Gate. 75 

« 

Gospel. If a servant applies for a situation in your household, 
or a clerk wants to work in your store, you require a certificate 
of character before you will employ either. If you want to 
join any secret order, you must possess some moral character 
before you can do so. Men do not believe in men ; Christ does ; 
lie receives men of no character; He wants them as they are. 
It is said that an artist desiring to produce a picture of squalid 
poverty, searched the dens and slums of a great city for a model. 
After searching a long time, he found a man in the condition that 
suited him. He therefore bargained with him to be at his studio 
at a certain hour the next day, and relieving him for the nonce, 
went home. The hour appointed arrived ; pencils, easel, artist, 
were ready. True to the minute, the bell rang; the artist went 
to the door to admit his sitter, when, lo! and behold! he had got 
himself up for the occasion — he had washed himself, and by 
some means procured better clothing. "Oh! you have spoiled 
it." cried the artist, "I sought you for weeks, and wanted you 
as you were. " Is not that what you are trying to do. The feeling 
is praiseworthy and honorable, but it is a mistake. Christ wants 
you to come to him as you are ; you cannot be anything but a 
sinner, do as you will. He knows you exactly, and while He 
would have you all and more than you possibly can desire to be, 
yet He knows that you must begin just where and what you are 
now. He will cast no one out that cometh to God by Him. 

And yet this may be no commendation to some. Men argue 
in this way: The Gospel is for the low, vulgar and depraved. 
We are not low, neither are we vulgar or depraved ; therefore, 
we do not need the Savior. And because we preach to harlots, 
drunkards, adulterers, thieves and liars, that if they will they 
may lead a better life through Christ, there is almost a demand 
for a respectable Gospel, if not for a respectable Savior. Cer- 
tainly there is a demand for respectable churches, from which 
such are excluded. For some sins are respectable and others 
are not. It is disreputable for an Irishman or German to get 
drunk on beer or whisky in a saloon, but it is respectable for a 
gentleman to be elevated with wine at his club. It is disrcputa- 



' 'j6 Lecture V. 

ble to speak to Magdalene on the streets, but it is respectable 
to buy carriages and furnish parlors for Delilah. It is disrepu- 
table to steal horses and wreck trains, but it is respectable to 
write another man's name to a bond. It is disreputable to 
thieve at a faro bank, but at a savings bank it is quite another 
thing. It is disreputable to pick a man's pocket, but to mislead 
a man in a business transaction, by silence or a lie, so that he 
loses his all, and we are benefited by that loss — what is that? 
We could call it by an ugly name, but we need not. 

Both these classes of sinners have many things, and these, the 
essentials of life, in common ; this is a presumption that salva- 
tion is common to all. They see by the same light, breathe the 
same air, eat and drink in the same manner, are moved by the 
same motives, have the same ends. It is therefore not strange 
that there is but one Savior provided for all. It were as unwise 
to reject common mercies as the common salvation. 

What a gate is to your property, so Christ is to the way of 
righteousness. 

A gate is an end ; an end of wanderings. It opens on a direct 
road to your house. At the gate a man leaves behind that 
which he will not carry into his house. It is the door of sepa- 
ration. A merchant leaves his store and his office with care- 
worn expression. The difficulties of his business perplex him. 
until he sees a curly head hanging o\"er the gate, and a pair of 
blue eyes watching for "pa." Then he lets his business go, and 
taking his child's hand in his, forgets his cares in the love and 
dut}- of a parent. But it is a beginning of a man's private pro- 
pert}'. Once within it. he becomes his own true self So 
Christ Jesus is the end of the old, care-worn, curse-struck life. 
If any man come to Him, he is a new creature. He is born 
again ! Behold, all things are become new. He is no longer 
in the flesh, but of the spirit. 

Two difficulties arise here. The one is practical, the other 
theological. The one concerns us as sinners, the other as truth- 
seekers. The practical difficulty is related b\' Bunyan in this way : 



The Wicret Gate. 'J'] 



"When Christian was stepping" in, the other gave him a pull. 
Then said Christian. 'What means that?' The other told him: 
'A little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, 
of which Beelzebub is the captain ; from thence both he and 
the\^ shoot arrows at them that come up to this gate, if haply 
the\' ma}- die before they enter in.' 

I suppose most Christians have had experience corresponding 
to this. And if some of \'ou become Christians, you may suf- 
fer in the same manner. If \o\x were to follow your convictions 
and to profess your faith in Christ, then there would come sud- 
denly to your heart, you know not whence nor how. a number 
of reasons against it. And if you followed those dissuasions, 
your good desires, hopes and thoughts would die. 

The theological difficulty is this : The Pilgrim is made to go 
through the "Wicket Gate" into the way of righteousness, with 
the burden on his back. He teaches us that a sinner may come 
to Christ, and be found in the way of righteousness with the 
burden of conscious sin ; with no sense of forgiveness in his 
soul. 

Our modern idea of a Christian is one who can say that he 
has lost all sense of sin, and has experienced forgiveness. Men 
become religious to be forgiven, whereas God forgives when 
men are righteous. Many are kept out of the way of right- 
eousness because they do not possess such a sense. The dif- 
ference between our theology and Bun}'an's is this: We put 
forgiveness before righteousness ; he places righteousness before 
forgiveness. Who is right ? 

If we collect evidence from the experience of notable men, 
we shall find that, much as it may differ in its history, yet. in 
fact, it is nearh' the same. Bunyan, Wesley and Baxter are 
illustrious examples of the truth here pictured by the Great 
Dreamer. But to the law and to the testimony. 

Saul, of Tarsus, is the pattern conversion. He is an exam- 
ple to all who shall hereafter believe. He was obedient to the 
heavenly vision before he received sight or the remission of sins. 

The Savior has tausjht that no one will be forgiven of God 



yS Lecture V. 

until he has first forgiven all who have trespassed against him. 
No one, I take it, can be forgiven until he ceases to do evil and 
learns to do well. But it may be asked, "Can a man who is 
conscious that he is a sinner, walk in the way of righteousness? 
Can he be obedient to Christ?" Let me answer this question 
by asking another: "Can a man who is sick, do as his physi- 
cian directs him before he gets well?" Of course he can. That 
is just how he arrives at the experience of health. So you must 
get into the way of righteousness in order to get these experien- 
ces. A tree must be planted before it can bear fruit. 

A gate shuts. You close your gates for protection at night; 
you lock and bolt your windows ; by them you are protected and 
your interests secured. When the man-slayer fled to the City 
of Refuge, he was safe only when he was inside the gates. They 
forever barred his pursuers from taking vengeance on him. This 
gate closed on the way over which Christian had traveled, and 
forever shut out the experiences he had undergone. What a 
beautiful illustration of Christ! We run to Him, and are safe. 

1. Christian feared to die. Most men do. Christ saves men 
from that. He delivers those who, through fear of death, are 
all their lifetime subject to bondage. Ah ! poor, sinful brother, 
the sentence of death is in you. The wages of sin is death. 
The soul that sinneth shall die; but a Christian never dies; 
Christ gives to him eternal life ; he shall never perish. Whoso- 
ever believeth in Christ shall never die. though he were dead. 

2. Christian despaired of ever being saved. He fell into the 
Slough of Despond; the gate closed on that; a soul that be- 
lieves on Christ cannot despair; Christ to such is an Almighty 
Savior; He saves to the uttermost. 

3. The Christian was condemned by the law. But the gate 
closed on that experience also. There is no condemnation to 
them who are in Christ Jesus; He is the end of the law for 
righteousness; no one can condemn a believer in Him, for He 
hath died. 



The Wicket Gate. 79 



A gate opens; it is a means of ingress. Christ opens the 
way of righteousness. We are not made righteous by knowing 
the law, but by faith in Him. Faith brings us into fellowship 
with God, and the Great Being who demands a perfect obedience 
to His law. makes our service possible by a simple faith in His 
Son. We can none of us get to heaven by a perfect obedi- 
ence, but we may by a simple faith and honest love. 

He openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man 
openeth. Your salvation and mine is abolutely in the hands of 
Christ. His Spirit will not always strive with man. May God 
grant that none of you may knock at the gate which is so abso- 
lutely under His control, and read, not "Knock, and it shall be 
opened unto you," but "Too late, too late, you cannot enter 
now." 



LECTURE VI, 



THE INTERPRETERS HOUSE. 



[Synopsis of Chapter. —The hero of the allegory reaches the Interpreter's 
House, where he knocks over and over for admission. The Interpreter 
comes to him, grants him entrance, lights a caudle, and proceeds to show him 
the wonders of the house, as follows: 1. A picture of a very grave person, 
hanging against the wall. 2. A room full of dust, which one attempted to 
sweep before it had been sprinkled with water. 3. Two children, named 
Passion and Patience, the former of whom was wretched in abundance, the 
latter of whom was content to wait with nothing, for the riches promised 
him. 4, A mysterious fire against a wall, on one side the devil attempting to 
extinguish it by pouring on water ; on the other side Jesus Christ keeping it 
up by pouring on oil. 5. A beautiful palace, guarded by soldiers ; a man at 
the door with ink-horn and book, to take the names of all who would enter ; 
a stout-hearted man who had his name put dov/n, and who, to reach the pal- 
ace, fought his way through the soldiers. 6. A miserable man in an iron 
cage. He was formerly a professor of religion, had backslidden, was wretch- 
ed in consequence, and was afraid of Eternity. 7. A man who trembled in 
consequence of having had a dream of the final judgment. After he had 
seen these things he went on his way.] 



GOOD-WILL directed Christian to the house of the Inter- 
preter. To it he came, and at the door knocked over and 
over again, as instructed. Ultimately he was admitted. 

In our last, we saw that knocking meant praying. The In- 
terpreter's House is that stage of discipleship in which the 
Christian receives the enlightenment of God's Spirit. There- 
fore to say that the Pilgrim knocked at the door of the Interpre- 
ter's House, is that a Christian must pray for like experiences. 



The Interpreter's House. 8i 

We ought not to forget that the Holy Ghost is our teacher; 
there is no disciple that does not need to learn of Him. 

After admitting the Pilgrim, the first thing the Interpreter did 
was to light a candle. This may seem to be too insignificant to 
notice; it is such a common-place action, but upon it depends 
the value of the things he was to see. A room may be beauti- 
fully furnished, but if we go into it when in darkness, and carry- 
ing no light, its beauty is naught. The things of the spirit exist, 
but they have to be spiritually discerned. The spirit of the 
man is the candle of the Lord. That candle must be lighted 
before these things can be discerned. The natural man know- 
eth not the things of the Spirit of God. 

In the phenomena of sight there is the thing seen and there is 
the eye that sees. Each is necessary to the other. We can ima- 
gine an eye mechanically perfect, and yet without the power to 
see ; it lacks the gift or sense of sight. So we can conceive an 
ear perfectly made, and yet deaf to music; in that case the mu- 
sical sense is defunct. In the midst of beauty we know that 
men may live untouched by it, unblessed by its mission. In 
such a case the aesthetic sense needs cultivation. So, I am not 
uttering a theological dogma, but a philosophical necessity when 
I say that we must receive the light within to see the things of 
God without. No man knoweth the things of God but the 
Spirit of God. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have 
entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath pre- 
pared for them that love Him. But God hath revealed them 
unto us by His Spirit, for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the 
deep things of God. For what man knoweth the things of a man, 
save the Spirit of man which is in him, even so, the things of 
God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God. Now we have 
received the Spirit which is of God that we might know the 
things that are freely given to us by God." 

Observe, the Spirit of God is not given to any who are out of 
the way of righteousness. Mark, learn, and inwardly digest the 
fact that the Interpreter's House is in this way ; so if any one, 
no matter how sacred his office, how well his condition, has not 
— 1 1 



82 Lecture VI. 

enough righteousness between man and man to practice it, the 
law of righteousness between man and God enough to honor it: 
if such an one, I say, professes to have the Spirit of God, be- 
heve him not ; he is a liar. The fruit of the Spirit is righteous- 
ness. By their fruit know all men. 

Christ is the way into righteousness; therefore none who 
refuse Christ can receive the Holy Ghost. No one had the 
liberty to go to such mansions as I described last week, pluck 
the flowers, and enjoy the hospitality, but those who went in 
at the gate ; those who get in any other way, are breakers of 
law. Christ makes the same assertion in the words, "I am the 
Door, he that entereth in any other way, the same is a thief and 
a robber." God's Spirit reveals nothing to that man who refu- 
ses Christ. God is one. He who refuseth Christ rejecteth 
the Father. 

The conditions, then, upon which we may see and enjoy the 
sights of the Interpreter's House, are, that we pray for the 
Spirit of God, and that we receive the Spirit of God. 

The first thing shown to the Pilgrim was a picture of a very 
grave person, hanging up against the wall, and this was the 
fashion of it: "It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of 
books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, 
the world was behind its back, it stood as if it pleaded with 
men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. 

This is Bunyan's description of a Christian minister. It was 
the ideal to which he strove, and which, in the judgment of pos- 
terity, attained ; for on St. Peter's green, Bedford, England, 
"the glorious dreamer is standing in a most natural attitude, 
holding an open Bible in his left hand, the finger of his right 
hand resting upon the page, his face turned upwards, yet not 
averted from the persons with whom he is supposed to be plead- 
ing, radiant with the truth he is setting forth. There is, perhaps, 
less of robust vigor in the expression than we look for in a man 
of Bunyan's mould, and a more strongly pronounced smile than 
would often be seen lighting up the features, which are described 



The Interpreter's House, 83 

by cotemporaries as habitually grave and even stern ; yet the 
moment seized by the artist is one in which implicit faith and 
exultant joy are animating the soul of the preacher as he ten- 
derly pleads with men ; and there cannot be two opinions as to 
the strong moral impression which the countenance of this 
earnest preacher is calculated to make on the beholder. The 
effect is exceedingly vivid and pleasing." 

"The idea which the sculptor has striven to work out is embo- 
died in the inscription at the back of the pedestal, which is taken 
from Bunyan's description of the picture he saw hanging up 
against the wall in Interpreter's house."* 

"Now," said the Interpreter, "I have shown you this picture 
first, because the man, whose picture this is, is the only man 
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going, hath au- 
thorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet 
with in the way; Avherefore take good heed to what I have 
shewed thee, and bear well in mind what thou hast seen ; lest in 
thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, 
but their way goes down to death." 

Evidently his design was to show by contrast the clergy of his 
day; the false and blind guides to whom the ministry of the 
gospel was but a profession. 

Being a Baptist, he believed as we do, that the choice 
of a pastor is entirely with the Church. It became neces- 
sary, therefore, that the Pilgrim should be taught the true 
features of an ambassador of Christ. It is not necessary that a 
preacher should be rich, or well dressed, or even learned ; of 
elegant manners or eloquent; but it is absolutely essential for 
him to be thoughtful, truthful, taught in the Word, careless of 
gold and silver, compassionate with men, and heavenly-minded. 
There are such men to be found ; Churches should seek them. If 
the Churches asked of God and demanded of men a spiritually 
robust ministry, a ministry of men who hated sin, loved right- 
eousness, who could stand behind the words they uttered with 
these credentials of heaven; in short, if John Bunyan's ideal 

* Book of the Biinyan Festival. 



84 Lecture VI. 

were attempted, it would be realized, aiui tiio works of John 
Bunyaii ai^ain would follow. As it would not become me to 
sa\- more on this point, we will pass to 

THE ROOM FULL OF DUST. 

This teaches him — 

1. The state of man's heart; "/)/// 0/ c/i/sf, because never 
swept." And let me remind \-ou that we are talking about the 
heart, its thoughts, desires, affections, and imaginations, rather 
than the outer conduct. 

2. The operation of the law of God upon the heart. Just as 
in sweeping a dust}' room, you discover the amount of dust 
therein, so the law of God reveals the condition of a sinful 
soul. But the law cannot of itself cleanse the heart. 

3. The sweet influences of the Gospel. One came and 
sprinkled water upon the dust and the room was cleansed. Here 
our Dreamer teaches that the heart can onh- be made clean under 
the purif\'ing influences of grace. 

Punishment of itself has a hardening effect. The worst crim- 
inals are those who have been punished most. If criminals are 
saved, it is by the power of love. The world will be sa\ed by 
revealing the love of God, not by preaching the law, nor by 
uttering the Gospel ; for much preaching of the Gospel gives no 
thought of love ; but b}- ourselves loving men ; loving men be- 
cause God has first loved us. Love is of God; God is love. 
This is the commandment which we have from Him: "That he 
who loveth God love his brother also." 

To illustrate this better than I can explain it. let me give an 
incident from m\- early ministry. When I was about to leave a 
district where I had labored as an Evangelist for eighteen 
months, a gentleman sought an interview with me. He remin- 
ded me of a series of meetings I had conducted a few months 
pre\ious, and then related the following: "I had been drinking 
hard for several weeks, was out of employment, and myself and 
famil)- were fast coming to want. One Sunda\' I was without 
mone\', and consequentl)' without drink. Tlie onl)' funds avail- 



The iNTERrKETKR's House. 85 
« 

able were in the shape of 'rent,' which my wife had saved out 
of her earnings. I determined to steal that, and nerved, by 
drink, end my life. I went to the spot where my wife kept this 
money; to my surprise it was not there. She had anticipated 
me. I was ani^ry, and left the house, intendin<^ to take my 
life. Just at that moment I heard some sin<4"ing. I traced it to 
a certain room, and discovered that a religious service was being 
held, I went in. Well, sir, you preached. Do you remem 
ber the text?" "No, I do not," I replied. He then repeated it: 
"Hell is moved from beneath for thee, to meet thee at thy com- 
ing." Well, sir, I thought the text and sermon were both for 
me. I went home, but could not rest. The next day I wan- 
dered about, to drown my senses in drink or to kill myself. I 
went on the railroad several times to lay myself on the rails for 
a train to pass over me, but somehow I could not. I thought 
of the consequences you preached. On the next night you 
preached again. Do you remember the text ?' "No." Well, 
sir. it was this : ' Come now, and let us reason together, saith 
the Lord ; for, though your sins were as scarlet, they shall be 
as wool ; though red like crimson, they shall be as white as 
snow. ' I saw that though my sins were great, God's love could 
save me from them. That night I began a new life, and a few 
months ago I joined a Baptist Church." 

You see, one night I preached the law ; it revealed the man 
to himself, but it drove him nearly to despair. The next I 
preached the Gospel ; it revealed God to the man, and resulted 
in a new life. The law is weak through the flesh, but the Gos- 
pel is the power of God. Wherefore I am not ashamed of the 
Gospel of Christ. It may be folly to the cultured, a stumbling- 
block to the legal, but to the sinner who believes, it is the power 
of God unto salvation. When a man can receive into his soul 
the thought that though a sinner, God loves him, so as to touch 
his affections and turn them to believing and righteousness and 
truth and wisdom and beauty, he has received a power by which 
he will become a son of God. He is converted and made a 
new creature by that love of God which passeth knowledge. 



86 Lecture VI. 

The Interpreter then took him by the hand and led him into 
a Httle room wliere sat two children named 

PASSION AND PATIENCE. 

'"Passion seemed to be much discontent, but Patience was very 
quiet." Christian asked, "What is the reason of this discontent 
of Passion?" The Interpreter answered, "The t^overnor of 
them would have him stay for his best things to the beginning 
of the next year; but he will have them all now; but Patience 
is. willing to wait. Then one came to Passion and brought him 
a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet; the which he 
took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to 
scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, 
and had nothing left him but rags." 

This represents the folly of worldliness and the wisdom of 
goodness. The things of this life do perish in their using; the 
fashion of them passes away ; thej^ can never satisfy the spirit 
made for God. If I were asked to select the most miserable 
person on earth, it would be one who had all the world could 
give; one whose mental pabulum was the latest no\'el, the sen- 
sational drama, and the artificial pretensions of what is called 
society. If you want to see misery, go and look, not at the 
gutter children of large cities, but at the men and women who 
have "seen the world;" those who risk eternity for it. 

We often depict and describe the miseries of the poor ; we 
spend money to relieve their wants; we form societies to strike 
at the root of their evils ; all this is well enough, but we have 
left one field untilled, the world needs a mission to the rich, to 
the prosoerous, the worldK', for if I am asked to select the hap- 
piest, I should find them in prison, among the sick, in heathen 
lands. Sacrifices, yea, living sacrifices, who, like their Master, 
go about doing good. The boy who truants sacrifices all the 
intellectual pleasures of manhood for the pleasure of amuse- 
ment. The Prodigal took his portion and went into a far 
countr\' and spent it in riotous living ; did it at the expense of 
future happiness. It is better to be happy in eternity than in 
time, and better to be miserable in time than in eternity. Let 



The Interpreter's House. 87 

, t. 

us beware of a passionate, worldly life ; let us rather live for the 
things that are unseen and eternal. 

I found a perfectly happy human creature once. She was a 
poor old woman, dependent upon the public for support. As 
she was a member of my congregation, I visited her one after- 
noon. She lived in a very small cottage. The moment I en- 
tered I .saw that it was scrupulously clean ; the dear old creature 
had just been gathering sticks from the lanes with which to pre- 
pare her evening meal. Her face was the heavenliest I ever 
saw. It was surrounded by the white fringe of her cap. On 
the table lay a well-worn copy of God's Word ; she was so old 
that I involuntarily looked for the entrance of a daughter or a 
friend, who, I thought, had charge of her. As no one ap- 
peared, I said. "Mother Ansel, you don't live alone, do you?" 
"Live alone! Live alone !" she said, first in gentle correction, 
and then, with a smile, a ray of light from the inner heaven. 
"Live alone! Me live alone! No, my son. Me and the Lord 
live together." Now, she had nothing, and was contentedly 
happy, for she had all that can make happiness, in her Lord, and 
naught to substitute for the chief good. 

You may think that this is all very well to preach. Friends, 
I utter facts. The experience of every man who neglects the 
future for the present, confirms them. The life of a worldling 
is my proof This world is soon spent, and the spender quickly 
comes to want. Not so he who lives to God. He who lives 
for righteousness ; he who receives God in His law and love. 
His soul lives richly and forever. He can sing from his heart — 

O wealth of life beyond all bound ! 

Eternity each moment given ! 
What plummet may the Present sound ? 
Who promises a./uture heaven? 
Or glad, or grieved, 
Oppressed, relieved. 



88 Lecture VI. 

In blackest night, or brightest day, 

Still pours the flood 

Of golden good. 
And more than heart-full fills me aye. 

My wealth is common ; I possess 

No petty province, but the whole ; 
What's mine alone, is mine far less 
Than treasure shared by every soul. 

Talk not of store, 

Millions or more, 
(^f values which the purse may hold — 

But this divine ! 

I own the mine 
Whose grains outweigh a planet's gold. 

I have a stake in every star, 

In every beam that fills the day ; 
All hearts of men my coffers are, 
My ores arterial tides convey. 

The fields, the skies, 

And sweet replies 
Of thought to thought are my gold dust,- 

The oaks, the brooks, 

And speaking looks 
Of lovers' faith and friendship's trust. 

Life's youngest tides joy brimming flow 

For him who lives above all years, 
Who all immortal makes the Now, 
And is not ta'en in Time's arrears : 

His life's a hymn 

The seraphim 
Might hark to hear or help to sing, 

And to his soul 

The boundless whole 
Its bounty all doth daily bring. 



The Interpreter's House. 89 

"All mine is thine:" the sky-soul saith, 
"The wealth I am, must thou become 
Richer and richer, breath by breath, 
Immortal gain, immortal room!" 
And since all his 
Mine also is, 
Life's gift outruns my fancies far, 
And drowns the dream 
In larger stream 
As morning drinks the morning star. 

Then he was taken to see 

THE UNQUENCHABLE FIRE. 

A fire against the wall, over which one stood, and on which he 
continually poured water ; but instead of putting it out, it burned 
the more. The Pilgrim was much amazed, until he was taken 
to the other side, where the secret was revealed. There stood 
One, and he the Lord Jesus, pouring on oil. This is to show 
that an effort is constantly made to put out the spiritual life of a 
man. He will find the law of his flesh contrary to the law of 
his mind. The maxims, the temptations of the world are 
against him. At the end of life the wonder to him will be that 
he is a Christian. But God sustains us by His grace. Bunyan's 
life is an illustration of this. The World, the Church, and Satan 
did all they could to extinguish the work of grace in his soul. 
Persecution, poverty, threats, promises, were tried from with- 
out; temptations, fierce and strong, from within; but without 
avail. Trust Christ, though invisible. The greatest forces we 
know of are unseen. The less material and the more etherial 
the source of power the greater is it. His is an invisible, 
though constant supply. "He is able to make all grace to 
abound towards us, that we, having all sufficiency in all things, 
may abound in every good work." 

In an early edition of Wycliffe's Bible is a frontispiece, con- 
sisting gf a fire ; and an atheist, the pope, and the devil, blowing 
on it with all their might to put it out; but instead of blowing 
— 12 



90 



Lecture VI. 



it out they blow it on ; the flame grows fiercer and hotter. Christ 
is watching his chosen ones, and every soul he secretly sustains. 
His grace is all-sufficient ; we can endure and do all things 
through Him who strengthens us. Let each soul say. "My suf- 
ficiency is of God." 

THE IXK-HORN .\ND THE BOOK. 

Next he saw a man sitting in a room, the door of which was 
o-uarded by soldiers. At his side was an ink-horn and a book ; 
beyond him was a mansion, and shining ones walking on the bat- 
tlements of it. Many desired to reach the mansion, but were 
intimidated by the guard. At last came a man of very stout 
countenance, who said to the man with the ink-horn and book : 
' 'Put my name down, sir. " Then, drawing his sword, he fought 
fiercely till he made his way through the soldiers to the man- 
sion ; so he went in and was clothed with such garments as the 
inmates. Christian smiled, and said, "Verily, I think I see the 
meaning of this." I do not know whether you do, my friends. 
The meaning is, that there are difficulties to be met constantly, 
and if we would get to Heaven we must as constantly fight and 
conquer them. 

I have seen boys enlist in the army, and they were pleased and 
proud as though they were veterans of a hundred battles. A 
man gets possession of a farm, and thinks his fortune is made. 
Two dear souls get married and think their troubles are over. 
A man gets converted and thinks he is all right forever and ever. 
Poor things, they will soon be undeceived. Their troubles have 
only just commenced, and will probably last a life-time. The 
only way to conquer them is to fight, and fight constantly. 
There is no "rest and be thankful business," in a Christian's life, 
this side the grave; he must fight if he would reigm. Those 
who do not will fail, as may be seen in the next parable, of 

"THE M.\N IN THE IKON CAGE." 

"So the Interpreter took him by the hand and led him into a 
very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage. Now. 
the man to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat with his eyes 



The iNTEKrKETEK's House. qi 

looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he 
sighed as if his heart would break. Conversation elicited that 
he was once a flourishing professor of religion, but having left 
off to watch and be sober, he gave way to his lusts, tempted the 
devil, provoked God to anger, hardened his heart, so that he 
could not repent." He had no hope of salvation. He had 
grieved away the Spirit of God, and he sat with his head upon 
his knees, crying, "Oh, Eternity! I'^ternity!" 

I do not care to discuss the doctrine of the Perseverance of 
the Saints. I take it the Saints will persevere. I shall state a 
fact with which we are well acquainted, that men who have pro- 
fessed religion have turned round and are living in sin ; there 
are others who, while keeping up the appearances of a religious 
life, know very well that they have lost all interest in the mat- 
ter. They lost their treasure by not attending to the keeping 
of it. If a man neglect to eat he will starve. If a man neg- 
lect to study, he will become incapable and ignorant. If a 
prosperous man neglect to work, he will become poor; so, if a 
Christian neglect the means of grace, the communion of Saints, 
private prayer, and reading of the Bible, he will fall, and the 
last state of that man is worse than the first, for men who go 
back are miserable ; to hide this they seek pleasure and repose 
in all manner of means. Frequently they land in infidelity. 
Most of the infidels I have known — and I have known many — 
have once been professed followers of Christ. Professedly led 
there by intellectual questionings, but more frequently to quench 
their conscience in the darkness of naught. 

But the thought of eternity troubled him. Eternity! How 
long is eternity? We can easily speak the word, and as easily 
repeat it, and then as easily forget it. But we can form no 
conception of it. Figures of speech and numerals will not 
express it. It defies analysis. But let us analyze a portion of 
it, if it is worth being called a portion. Let us dissect an Eng- 
lish billion.* Write it on paper — a modest i with a dozen 
ciphers attached. Let us first try to show what it is as applied 



* Here I use the illustration of Mr. Bessemer. 



92 Lecture VI. 

to Time. Distance, and Weight. When, for example, we speak 
of a billion of seconds, we, perhaps, suppose that since our 
era, such a number has long since been measured out. Arith- 
metic shows us, however, that we have not even passed one-six- 
teenth of that number in all these long eventful years; for it 
takes just 31,687 years, 17 days, 22 hours, 45 minutes and 5 
seconds to constitute a billion of seconds. A billion of sover- 
eigns (20-cent pieces will do,) would extend, when ranged side 
by side, in piles of twenty feet high, so as to form two parallel 
walls, a distance of 2,386^ miles; or, if placed on the ground 
so as to form one continuous chain b\' each sovereign touching 
the one next to it, such a chain would encircle the earth 763 
times. The weight of the same sovereigns would be 6.975.447 
tons. As to altitude, a billion sheets of the 7/>/hs, or any first- 
class newspaper, superimposed upon each other, and pressed 
into a compact mass, would reach to the height of 47,348 miles. 
A billion is a fearful thing, and as for quadrillions and trillions, 
they are simply words wholh- incapable of impressing them- 
selves on the human intellect. But one thing is thinkable con- 
cerning them ; somewhere they end. But Eternity means end- 
lessness; it has no end. Mere astounding figures give no idea 
of it. They are but the starting points of eternity. When the 
Egyptians expressed this idea in their hieroglyphical language, 
they did it by a circle, denoting, without beginning and without 
end forever. Measure it ! Suppose we gather every beam of 
light that ever came from the sun, every ear of corn, every 
blade of grass, every feather of flying fowl, every drop of the 
ocean, every grain of sand, that ever existed ; call each a year, 
and spend this time in eternity — and then eternity is to come ! The 
thought is overwhelming — it is awful ! How will you spend it ? 
With whom, and where? Let controversialists treat the subject 
with becoming reverence. It is a matter to feel, rather than to 
dispute about. 

The Interpreter then took him to a man who had been dream- 
ing of the final judgment. The dream is told in Bunyan's own 
dramatic manner. But 1 have trespassed too much on }our 



The Interpreter's House. 93 

time. As this subject will occur again in our progress, we will 
discuss it then. 

These are the truths wrought into the soul by the Holy Ghost; 
they become the intuitive sense of the child of God. They are 
spiritual, and are felt, rather than understood. We need the 
direct personal teaching of the Holy Ghost. We need spiritual 
discernment, for this we must have spiritual enlightenment. 

In conclusion, let me say, that I am reminded I have two 
congregations — one that has heard what I have said, the other 
hdisfelt my utterances; the one is spiritual, the other is carnal. 
To feel the truth is evidence of spiritual-mindedness. 

Some excuse themselves, saying they have not the Holy 
Ghost. Is not a man responsible for his poverty, if he might 
be rich; for his ignorance, if he might be learned? Is he less 
responsible, who has not the Spirit of God ? Certainly not. 
God has promised to all who ask, "If ye being evil know how 
to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your 
Heavenly Father give THE SPIRIT to those who ask Him. 



LECTURE VII 



THE CROSS. 



[Synopsis of Chaptkr. —The Pilgrim entered the Interpreter's House by 
knocking, and lett it singing. With a soug, he marches an liighwaj% fenced 
in on either side by a wall called Salvation. His burden is still a diffirulty. 
But he soon comes to a little ascent, where stood a Cross, and a little below, 
in the bottom, a Sepulchre. Here tlie burden falls off by itself into the Sep- 
ulchre, and he saw it no more. Christian stands in amazement and weeps 
and sing> for joy. Three shining ones come to him and salute him with 
" Peace be unto thee." The lirst paid unto him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee." 
The second gave him a change of raiment. The third set a mark on his 
foreiiead, and gave him a roll with a seal on it. From hence he proceeds 
witli nuieh jo}% and sees, to his sorrow, a little out of the way three men, 
named Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, asleep, with fetters on their heels. 
He awoke them, shewed them their danger, but was unsuccessful in getting 
them concerned. Then two others, Formalist and Hypocrisy, came tumb- 
liuo; over the wall. These he sought to insti'uct and coriect, and got derided 
for his pains.] 



WE bring our Pilgrim to the Cross to-night. He came to 
it soon after he left the "Interpreter's House." The in- 
struction and enlightenment he received there were esential to 
the experiences which we now study. It is indispensable that 
a man be divinely illuminated in order to see that his salvation 
from sin is in Christ. The mission of the Spirit of God is to 
take of the things of God and show them to us. We cannot 
of ourselves unravel the meaning of the life of Christ and the 
tragedy of Calvary. He, however, is possessed of the secret, 
and He conveys it to all those who fear God. I shall not be 
able to communicate it. Without controversy, great is its mys- 
tery. To reveal it is the work of the Holy Spirit. 



The Cross. 95 

. — — •— . — . — _ 

It may be necessary to review. Christian fled from the wrath 
to come — from the condemnation of the law. He entered at 
the Wicket Gate, and passed through the Interpreter's House. 
Now, a man must leave sin, acknowledge Christ, and become 
His disciple, before he can enjoy the experiences of spirit- 
ual life. Christ taught men righteousness before He died for 
them. They followed Him before they received the Holy 
Ghost. So with our Pilgrim ; he left sin and followed after 
righteousness before he found peace and joy in Christ Jesus. 

But there are crosses which are not " "The Cross. " They need 
to be pointed out. so that you may not make a fatal mistake. 
One of the most common and fatal of all mistakes is to come 
to the Cross as theologians, and not as sinners. Our Pilgrim 
came as a burdened sinner. Do thou likewise. 

I. There is the literal fact: Christ was put to death on a 
cross. That very cross is said to be preserved. Part of it is in 
Rome, part of it in Paris, parts of it in Palestine, part of it in 
Russia. You will find large portions of it in churches and 
ecclesiastical museums. There is almost enough of it to build 
a navy. Many men. however, think it possesses some talisma- 
nic power, and they therefore take long journeys and offer 
costly gifts to gaze upon any one piece of it. But it is nothing; 
if you possessed the whole of it, it would not avail for your sal- 
vation. The wood of the cross is no better than that of any 
other tree that grew in the forest. Trees cannot save souls. 
You might visit the Holy Land, as did the Empress Helena, 
search for, find, possess and preserve the fragments of the cross 
on which Jesus died ; forge the nails into ornaments, as did 
Constantine, and yet not be saved. 

II. You may also meet with the historical circumstance. It 
is written that Christ died on the cross. Now you may have 
read that in the Holy Book, in history, poetry, fiction and phi- 
losophy, many times. You may know that crucifixion \\'as the 
Roman method of capital punishment executed only upon the 
lowest and vilest, and therefore extremely ignominious. You 
may know all the particular circumstances of His death ; the 



96 Lecture YU. 

blackness of the heavens, the terror of the earth, the derision 
and contempt of men. the loneliness of the victim, and know 
that in this there was a gpreat moral purpose, and yet all this 
knowledge is merely historical. There is no more salvation in 
it than in knowing- that Napoleon crossed the Alps, that Co- 
Unnbus discovered America, the pil^^rim fathers came in the 
Mayflower and landed on Plymouth Rock. History does not 
save souls. 

Til. You will frequently meet with the symbol of the Cross. 
It crowns the pinniicle of churches ; it decorates altars; it is laid 
in the binding of Bibles and devotional books ; it is sometimes 
worn — too often by those who are ashamed of Him who died 
on it — as an ornament; it is printed on banners, and annies 
have fought and do fight under it; it is sprinkled with jewels. 
and blazes on the hand of the living ; it is set in flowers and laid 
on the casket of the dead : and yet it will not. as a symbol, 
avail for siilvation. Souls are not saved by shadows, but by 
forces. 

lY. You will as frequently meet with a theological cross. 
The cross is a divine fact. The cross of the the^^logian is a 
theory concerning the mysteries therein. Theologians gather 
round the cross and they fight, and, as 1 believe, crucify the Son 
of God afresh, and put him to an open shame. To-day the air 
is rent witK the cry, "Crucify Him; He is not fit to live." 
Those who hold what is known as the moral theory, cry against 
what is known as the commercial theory. "Away with Him; 
He is not fit to live." And those who hold that which is burles- 
qued as the commercial theory, cry out. in a multitude of voices, 
''Away with Him; He is not fit to live." And the several 
hundred theorirers of the Atonement make a rabble, crying out 
against each other's theory, " He is not fit to live, " And mind 
you, this is not a controversy between the bad and the good, 
but between good men on all sides. Rid men men have not 
enough interest in the cross to quarrel about it. Now. 1 ad- 
vise you not to trouble yourself about any theories, IJke Hun- 
yan's IHlgrim, ha\'^ no theories; about it. Pray for the Holy 



I'lii': (koss. 97 

(iliost, and whati'X'iT lie- Itachcs yoii, Uani. I -i-t Ciod make 
u hatc'\ cT impicssion ol (lu- ("rdss 1 Ic will upon yi)ur heart so 
prepared. Ihen- an- iliHen-nl savini; views of the Cross. Paul 
nave one to tlu- Konians, anotlui- to the C'oiinthians, and a dif 
iercnt one from either to the llebrews. Trust the Holy (ihost. 
I le cannot err. I le will lead you into all truth. The Gospel 
is tlu" power oi (iod, anil not a theory of any man's or class of 
men. .Souls are not saved by theology, but by the love of (iod. 
1 w ill tell }-ou what I sec in the Cross, prefacing it with the 
remark that 1 did not always see it as I do now. As our stand- 
ing; points shift, so our sii^ht alters. In the man who died on 
the Cross lor me I see, 

1. (lod's intinse hatred of sin. The feelint; we entertain 
concerning ainthin^" is manifested in what we do to be rid of it, 
oi- w hat we will pa\' to keep it. You told the worUl a few years 
ai;o what }'(ni thouL;ht of slavery, and how much you hatetl dis- 
union, by the thousands of sons you i^ave to die for your coun- 
tr}'. \'ou tell the wiM'ld to-day how much you hate popular 
ii;norance by the money you spentl to dissipate anci prevent it. 
A mother declares how much she hates ciisease by her steady, 
daily and hourly fiLjht to save her darlinj^^ from its pains and 
ravaiT,es. Now, in the Cross we see how much (iod hates sin 
by the sacrifice lie has matle to put it away. (iod spared not 
1 lis Son, but freely gave Ilim for us all. He condemned sin in 
the llesh. 

2. We see, also. His love for the sinner. In the mother 
who hates and fights disease, you also see love for the child. 
In the battle you fought against slavery and disunion, we can 
see love of humanity, love of country. In }n)ur educati(Mial 
institutions we read not only hatred of ignorance, but love of 
light, progress antl man. In the Cross God's love to man is 
manifest. Yes, (iod dt)es love man. How much? Look at 
the Cross. "He so loved the world." 

3. Hut there is more. We saw Christian under condemna- 
tion at Mount Sinai. There he learned that all sin must be 

— '3 



gS Lecture VII. 



punished. We are under law, and if we have sinned, we are 
under its condemnation. Now, if this righteous condemnation 
be removed from those who beheve in Christ, and if such are 
pardoned, then we know that Christ must have satisfied God in 
our behalf. God would not be righteous to forgive if He had 
not. Here we get into the region of dogma. It is eminently 
reasonable to believe that He did, though how, I do not know. 
There is no human analogy by which I can reach it. But what 
is most remarkable, the testimony of the Scriptures reaches our 
case readily. It assures us that He did. I believe the testi- 
mony concerning Him ; believe that God is true, and go on my 
way freed from the curse of the law by Him who was made a 
curse for us. 

4. In the Cross we see the spirit of a Christian life. In it 
we see obedience to the will of God ; self-sacrificing love to God 
and man. The most remarkable thing about the whole of it is 
His loving prayer. "Father, forgive them, for they know not 
what they do." In that we see the spirit of a Christian Hfe. 
How noble, grand, superhuman. Godlike, divine! He suffered 
and died like a man, at the hands of cruel and wicked men; 
but He breathed forgivness, like God. Even then He delighted 
to forgive. Now this forgiveness is the essential condition 
of Christian discipleship. He has taught us to pray for forgive- 
ness "as we forgive those who trespass against us." That is 
the only part of His teaching that is repeated. After teaching 
us to pray. He added, "For if ye forgive not men their tres- 
passes, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive you your tres- 
passes. " He again repeated it in a parable, teaching that if 
men who are forgiven of God do not forgive ther fellow-serv- 
ants, they shall be cast into prison until they have paid the 
utmost farthing. Thus Pilgrim received this spirit and noble 
life from the Cross. It was this that brought the delightful ex- 
perience of which we now speak, into his soul. His burden 
rolled off of itself. This was no effort on the part of Christian 
to get it off as heretofore. It came off as the bark of trees 
when the new life of spring is felt. He was filled with the 



The Cross. qq 
f_^ ^ 

Spirit of the atonement. Love to God. which was created by 
a savini^ view of the Cross, "banished all his guilty fears." 
When a man's heart is full of the Spirit of Christ, the burden 
of sin cannot remain. 

The burden rolled into a Sepulchre, "and he saw it no more." 
So completely does God remove the burden of sin ; so abund- 
antly does he pardon. Words cannot express the achievement. 

Then was Christian glad. He wept and sang for joy. His 
song was offered to Christ. Its burden was, "He hath given 
me rest by His sorrow, and life by his death." But this is not 
the whole of his experience. Three shining ones ministered to 
him; they unitedly greeted him with the salutation, "Peace be 
to thee!" Then the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven ;" 
the second stripped him of his rags and clothed him with a 
change of raiment ; the third also set a mark upon his forehead 
and gave him a roll with a seal on it. 

"Peace be to thee," all declaring: 
One forgives him all his sin; 
One a change of raiment bearing 
Clothes without and clothes within. 

Then the third, his finger tracing. 

Prints a mark upon his brow; 
And a roll his hand embracing 
With a signet sealed below. 

This is merely a picture of the experiences of a Christian, 
more or less clear, in every case. Bunyan being a Trinitarian, 
makes God and man, heaven and earth, meet at the Cross — 
man the receiver and God the minister, and to each of the per- 
sons of the God-head he assigns special work. The Father 
speaks forgiveness We have sinned against Hirn, and Him 
only ; therefore with Him alone is pardon. The Son stript him 
of his rags, and gave him a change of raiment. This is the 
special work of Christ. He does not cover our rags with His 
cloak, but He takes away our rags and gives us His garment. 



loo Lecture VII. 



The Spirit did quite a number of things. 

1. He set a mark in his forehead, and gave him God's spirit 
to bear witness with his, and assurance by their united evi- 
dence that he was a child of God. 

2. He'jVave him a roll : That is, he wrote the law of God 
upon his heart. He was delegated to do the will of God as it 
was written of him in the volume of the Book. 

This ends Christian's experiences at the Cross. Delightful, 
were they not? Have you had any such? Do you not lose some 
of the sweetest joys of life by neglecting them ? 

He had reason to give three leaps for joy and sing: 

"Thus far did I come laden with my sin, 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in. 
Till I came hither: "what a place is this! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss.'' 
Must here the burden fall from oft" my back.'' 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack .^ 
Blest Cross! blest Sepulchre! blest rather be 
The Man that there was put to shame for me!" 

With this new experience ; with the spirit of the Cross ; the 
life that sacrifices itself for the good of others. Christian pro- 
ceeded. "He went on thus until he came at a bottom, when 
he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fet- 
ters upon their heels. The name of one was Simple, an- 
other Sloth, and the third Presumption." Now, being filled 
as he was with the spirit of Christ ; being relieved of his bur- 
den ; being no longer anxious for himself, he began to do good 
as he had opportunity. He was restored to the joy of salvation, 
and taught sinners the way, that they might rejoice and be glad 
in God. He roused them from their sleep, apprised them of 
their danger, but did not succeed in bringing them to their 
senses. Their answers are characteristic : 

Simple says, "I see no danger." Men who are asleep do 
not, as a rule. But when there is danger, it is high time for 
men to wake out of sleep. The law of God, both revealed and 



The Cross. ioi 

natural, declares that punishment will follow sin as surely as 
shadow does substance. The law is, "Thou shalt love the Lord 
thy God; thou shalt love thyself; thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bor. " You may say that the man who is asleep is doing no 
harm. But he is neglecting to do good. God demands that 
the law shall be fulfilled. An empty life is a wasted one. He 
who sows no seed in spring, will have naught in harvest. And 
just as we would rouse the slothful to work, so would we rouse 
you to concern for your salvation. "How can you escape if you 
neglect so great salvation ?" There is danger, great and fearful 
danger. "You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, 
for the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom.'-' 

Sloth appears to believe in the danger, but believes also that 
there is plenty of time to escape it, so he said, "Yet a little 
more sleep. " He is exactly like those who postpone the day 
of repentance to the day of leisure, old age, or death. Let me 
ask you, can the work of a life be done in the hour of death? 
Besides, the law is that a man shall receive according to the 
deeds done in the body. How can you expect to offer God a 
holy life, a useful life, when you only commence it in old age 
or dying weakness ? 

But Presumption saw the danger, and braved it. His maxim 
was, "Every vat must stand on its own bottom." That is true. 
Sin cannot be transferred to another. I am responsible for 
mine, and you for yours. We shall answer for ourselves in the 
judgment. I heard a presumptions man say once that he did 
not care for the future, he should get just what he deserved, and 
no more. That is just what I fear. I am afraid of what I de- 
serve. Oh ! how can I, who have sinned in thought, word, and 
deed, face my loving Father with a presumptions smile, and ask 
for my deserts. How dare I, who have sinned in ignorance and 
knowledge, go into His pure courts in this spirit? No, breth- 
ren, I need a Savior, and so do you. 

They would none of his counsel. He was; therefore, much 
grieved. He noticed that they were ironed. Like every sin- 



I02 Lecture VII. 



ner, they were held in cords of their own sins. The other day 
I saw a convict on the street, his Hmbs chained to an iron ball, 
which held him to itself. The law had chained him to it. He 
would have been freed if he could ; he chafed under the shame, 
but he was powerless. His deeds had brought him there. If 
you visit a convict establishment you may see men forging 
chains which they will have to wear. So these men forged their 
chains ; so do the drunkard and the adulterer. Every form of 
sin is bondage. Sinners are in chains, waiting in darkness until 
the day of the Lord. 

While he was musing and troubled concerning these, "he 
espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left-hand 
of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The 
name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hy- 
pocrisy. " They were born in the land of Vainglory, and came 
into the way in this fashion, because they thought the Wicket 
Gate too far round for them. They are representatives of those 
who profess religion for purposes of their own, and therefore 
have no need of repentance toward God or faith in Christ. 

Formalist is one of those who deceive themselves in matters 
of religion. Human nature is very weak, and is grossly de- 
ceived by appearances. Many men like to keep up appearances. 
They buy brass and paste so that their jewels shall at least ap- 
pear to be diamonds set in gold ; they buy costly dress and live 
in large houses, that they may appear to be wealthy. This 
weakness men carry into religion ; and so men go punctually, 
frequently, and soberly to the most fashionable church, and de- 
ceive themselves with the thought that they are Christians. A 
house does not make a home ; all is not gold that glitters ; a 
church does not make a Christian ; display does not make 
wealth ; sacrifices, incense, pilgrimages, worship, do not make 
life. God dwelleth with the poor and contrite ; He looks on 
that man who is of clean hands and pure heart ; who has not 
taken bribes or sworn deceitfully, and such as he shall stand in 
in Zion before Him. 



The Cross. 103 

Hypocrisy ; an actor, represents those who profess rehgion 
that they may deceive others. But playing a part does not 
make a genuine character. An actor may look, dress and act 
like a king, but when the drama is over he may be but a sower of 
sedition. A man may act the part of a Christian, but when 
life is over, and God strips him, the real man will appear. 

How foolish their delusion! "If we are in the way, we are 
in." It does not matter how we got in, so that we are here. 
The members of our family enter our houses by the doors; 
thieves get in some other way. 

Look at the difference between these men and our Pilgrim, 
who came through the Wicket Gate and Interpreter's House to 
the Cross ; and now choose ye which of them shall be your 
example. 



LECTURE VIII 



THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Christian, with his companions, Hypocrisy and For- 
mality, walk along till they come to a very high hill named Difficulty. The 
straight path lay right up it. Two other ways, which appeared to go round 
it, named Danger and Destruction, met at its base These were taken by his 
companions — Hypocrisy taking one, and Formalist the other. Instead of 
going round, they led respectively to a great wood, and to a wide field, full 
of dark mountains, where they both perished. Christian refreshed himself 
at the spring at the bottom of the hill, and started. He went running, 
going, clambering upon his hands and knees, because of the steepness of 
the place. Midway up the hill he rested in a pleasant harbour, where he 
slept and lost his roll. Was aroused, and started on his journey with re- 
newed vigor, hoping to reach the Palace Beautiful before nightfall. He met 
Distrust and Timorous, who sought to turn him back by ill reports of the 
journey. Christian argued that to go back was to die ; to go on, only the 
fear of death at the worst, and therefore i-esolved to proceed. Here he found 
he had lost his roll and had to go back for it. Having found it he retraced 
his steps, and arrived with many discomforts and self-reproaches at the 
Beautiful Palace.J 



WE HAVE before us a hill, steep, rugged and high, to 
which Christian and his companions came. There is a 
spring at its base, an arbour on its side, a palace at its summit. 
There are ways that promise to go round it, but The Way is 
straight up it. It is a difficult way, and fitly represents the 
passage from the Cross to the Church. 

Since the world has possessed this allegory it has been claimed 
by Christians as the picture of their experiences. These are not 
all joyful; but smiles mingle with tears; nights follow the days; 



The Hill Difficulty. 105 

storm the calm ; clouds the sunshine ; the waves of blessedness 
that flow from heaven and break on the soul, ebb back again, 
and a Christian is not merely left in a smooth sea, but frequent- 
ly at low water. Our Pilgrim was joyful at the Cross. This 
soon gave place to the arduous task of climbing the difficult hill. 

I say the passage from the Cross to the Church is difficult ; 
difficult as it would be for you to climb such a hill as Bunyan 
had in his mind, to reach the castle at its top. It is as danger- 
ous as the transition from boyhood to manhood, when the lad 
has all the passions of a man, and only the experience and 
strength of a child to control them. The Christian has all the 
powers of sinful manhood, with only the strength of Christian 
childhood to withstand them. I refer, of course, to such sin- 
ners as Bunyan. who came into the way of righteousness at a 
comparatively late period in life. Happy, indeed, are they 
who seek God early and find Him, so that the Divine life grows 
with the lower life, and from the beginning keeps it under sub- 
jection. 

He has been taught in the Interpreter's House that he must 
go right on, though the way be not always level ; now he will 
learn it from his own experience. Like the rest of us, he has 
to learn from his mistakes. 

It will be well to premise that a Christian has trials peculiar to 
himself. Events, thoughts, affections and conduct, that have 
no effect on others, fill him with grief and shame. On the same 
principle that an artist is offended by daubs of paint which 
others call pictures ; and a musician by noises that others call 
music; and a poet by jingles labelled poetry. Their sense of 
harmony and proportion, so abundantly educated, sees defects; 
feels inconsistencies so that they suffer the most exquisite misery, 
and misery which will neither evoke compassion nor apprecia- 
tion. 

" The highest sufter most, 
The strongest wander farthest and more hopelessly are lost. 
The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain. 
And the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain." 

— 14 



io6 Lecture Vlll. 

A Christian's moral sense is so quickened, the law of God. 
in its refined spirituality, so deftly written in the heart by the 
Spirit of God, that he is sensitive to anything that offends 
the love of God. And what so sensitive as love? Wo can 
grieve those who love us more easily than we can any others, 
and we are grieved b\- them as we are not by otliers. A Chris- 
tian feels to be wrong what may appear to others right. He 
will mourn over actions and dispositions which others treat lightly 
and carelessly. He is as sensiti\e to every degree of sin as 
a tender plant is to frost. This may explain some of the sorrows 
of pilgrims. 

The Pilgrim has just icu the Cross. He is possessed of tlie 
Spirit of Christ Jesus, and begins to learn the infinite tenderness 
of righteous sorrow. He now debates this question, "Shall I 
join the church?" With our TOgrim there was no hesitation. 
He drank of the spring at the bottoni. and then begun to go up 
the hill, saying : 

•• Tl\e hill, though high. I covet to ascend. 
The ditficully will not nie offend: 
For I i->erceive the »-ay to life lies here: 
Come, pluck u^v, heart, let's neither taint nor fear: 
Better, though ditlicult, the right way to go. 
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.'' 

But this is the question with many. Take into account this 
refined spiritual experience ; take also into account that the Chris- 
tian is a man in the flesh and intellect, and a babe in the spirit; 
and witli tliese thoughts we may proceed to inquire wh\- such a 
difficulty should exist in the mind of any to whom such a duty 
must be plain. 

A Christian will feel a conflict between flesli and spirit, and 
this is a difficulty. Perhaps (^this is often the case) the new life 
has led him to promise himself that all conflicts of this kind are 
over. After the first ardor has passed away he finds his old 
dispositions asserting themselves, and his old habits la\nng claim 
to his life. In sin he indulged tlie flesh, and made his intellect 
an important advocate thereof He has read of the body being 



The Hill Difficulty. . 107 



dead to sin ; read it in devotional books and hymns, and heard 
from the experience of older Christians of being so free from sin 
that it has no dominion over their bodies, and that this is accom- 
plished by faith. He knows again that he who sows to the 
flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption. Well, he knows that he 
believes in Christ, but he does not find his body dead. He is 
in it. His carnal nature asks supremacy; it craves indulgence. 
The intellect, so long the ally of the (lesh, reads God's word, 
history and biography with fleshly bias, and examples are refer- 
red to, maxims are quoted, precedents are offered. He can 
not make headway against such winds. He is affrighted at the 
inclinations of his heart, and the appetite of his flesh. He has 
learned that a Christian had none such. He is to be pardoned 
if he asks himself the question, "Am I a Christian? Ought I 
to join the Church ?" 

Let me suppose that this is really your difficulty. You may 
have been a drunkard, or a glutton, or even worse, and I have 
described your condition. What am I to say to you? I recog- 
nize that these temptations and appetites are to you a sorrow. 
You feel that, if carried out, they would take away the spirit 
you have received from God ; they would destroy the peace 
which passeth all understanding, the unspeakable joy of your 
heart. You do not feel inclined to make the barter. The 
temptation is more than you can stand. Jiut see you not, my 
brother, that your grief and resistance are proof that the life 
of the Spirit is within you? 

1 recognize, again, that you have been badly educated. No 
where is it promised that you will become altogether spiritual all at 
once. You are indeed to reckon your body dead to sin, but not 
to your natural appetites. God placed them there. They may 
be used for his glory. Let them move in the channels he has 
made. You are to crucify your lusts; but crucifixion is a long, 
slow mode of dying. Drive the nails into your lusts, but not 
into a solitary proper affection of the soul. You are not called 
to asceticism, that is cowardice ; but to be a man. Be, then, a 
hero. 



io8 Lecture VIII, 



That you may join the Church is established by precedent. 
Paul is our precedent here. He found the flesh lusting against the 
spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. He fought beasts, as has 
every Christian. He kept his body under subjection. Paul 
felt as you do. Do you then as he did. 

But he may find a difficulty between his spirit and the world. 
He will not have been a Christian a great while before he will 
have discovered that it is conducive to worldly prosperity. God- 
liness is profitable to all things having the promise of the life 
that now is, and that which is to come. When Christ sends the 
devils out of a human being, he soon gets enough of the world to 
buy a box of spikenard, very precious and costly. The ragged, 
unmanageable sinners whom He saves, are soon to be found at 
His feet, clothed and in their right mind. These effects influence 
the soul. Having received so much good, he is tempted to 
think there is no more good to get, shuts his eyes to the 
fact that there is good to do, and that these new and rich mer- 
cies are all agencies by which he can and ought to do good unto 
others. 

He has, however, lived long for himself; his previous habits 
suggest that he is bound to take care for himself He is tempt- 
ed by the lust of the eye and the pride of life. At present he 
has not learned that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
He questions whether it will be policy for him to unite with 
God's people. Here is a difficulty often to be met in various 
forms. It will be an advantage for him to do as he feels he 
ought, if only to keep his heart open. 

There are difficulties of a marked nature between faith and 
doubt. The former difficulty is between spirit and flesh ; this 
between spirit and mind — between reason and faith. The in- 
tellect is used for the purpose of the flesh, or spirit. Man 
reasons, imagines, and thinks at their dictation. The mind, 
having been long on the side of the flesh, enters into the con- 
flict, and produces doubt concerning the very powers \yhich 
have produced a new life. 



The Hill Difficulty. ^ 109 

The Christian reads, "the just shall live by faith." He believes, 
and hath the life in himself. Faith is, first of all, credence of 
certain historical facts. So far it is mental. It is, again, the 
choice of some rule of life. With a Christian, it is choosing to 
obey the Lord Jesus ; herein it is moral. And it is conformation 
of the thoughts and affections to the mind of God; herein it is 
spiritual. A Christian may be conscious of these powers in his 
soul and life, and yet be tempted to doubt. And no wonder! 
Doubt is even consistent with faith — I had almost said necessary 
to it; certainly incident thereto. Personally. I thank God for 
my doubts, and personally. I have but little respect for the mind 
that has them not. and dares not grapple with them. Bunyan 
doubted. He doubted the being of God, and doubted his Saviour. 
Good men — aye, the best of men have doubted. It is not ne- 
cessarily sinful. To believe without evidence is sinful, for that 
is to violate the law of God, written in the constitution of the 
human mind. It is superstition and not faith. 

The genesis of Christian doubt is this : The new life makes a 
man more intellectual. He no sooner begins to live than he 
wants to know. He cannot remain ignorant. He begins to 
ask himself the why and the wherefore. He has been taught 
that to doubt is sinful, and because he cannot help doubting he' 
believes himself sinful. He condemns himself in the thing that 
he allows. He began the life as a sinner, now he rises to be a 
theologian. This is right; he ought to be able to give a reason 
for the hope that is in him. 

Then, again, he asks of himself and demands proofs from 
others concerning the verities of our holy religion, which do not 
apply,' and because these cannot be given, his doubts deepen. 
Let us acknowledge at once that we cannot give the demanded 
proof for the things surely believed among us. Why? Because 
such is not forthcoming ; it is absurd. 

You cannot have the same kind of proof for one thing that 
can be given satisfactorily for another. Two and two make four. 
This I can prove by mathematics, in all manner of ways. Water 
is composed of certain gases. I cannot prove the statement by 



I lo Lecture VIII. 



the means used to prove the other. Mathematics will not ap- 
ply. I have in this instance to apply chemistry. Beecher, 
Simpson, Gladstone, Bright, are great orators; I cannot prove 
this statement by either mathematics or chemistry ; but I can 
prove it by universal testimony, and the effect of their words. 
Camilla Urso is a great violinist ; Arbuckle a great cornet solo- 
ist ; Arabella Goddard a great pianist ; Kellogg a great singer ; 
but I cannot prove these predications by any other means than 
of the senses. If a man is charged with a crime, it has to be 
proven by testimony. History has to be proven by contempo- 
rary writings ; poetry and art by other means. They cannot, 
however, be judged as Sterne's traveler attempted to judge them, 
by a stop-w'atch and a two-foot rule. 

We are frequently asked, and the Christian asks for proofs of 
the things he believes, which do not apply ; and because he 
does not ask wisely, plunges himself into unreasonable doubts 
and much distress. Now I cannot demonstrate that there is a 
God ; but I can demonstrate that it is exceedingly foolish and 
unreasonable for any man not to believe in His existence. I 
cannot demonstrate that there is a future life, but I can bring 
forward so much presumptive evidence in favor of the doctrine, 
and I can demonstrate that men who refuse such evidence as 
conclusive, do act in the most important matters of life on so 
very much less, that it is unreasonable to deny, and foolish to 
doubt it. I cannot demonstrate that the Bible is wTitten, as it 
claims to be. by holy men, inspired by God, but I can convince any 
convinceable man that otherwise "man would not have written it 
if he could, and could not if he would." and leave the burden of 
accounting for its existence with him. I cannot prove to the 
absolute exclusion of doubt that Christ came into the w^orld to 
save sinners, but I can prove two things ; first, that sinners are 
saved from sin, selfishness, and animalism by believing in 
Him ; and I can prove that the story concerning Him as told in the 
New Testament, and as preached by the Churches, has revolu- 
tionized the world; that the countries without Christ are behind 
in civilization, and those who know His life, teaching and death, 



The Hill Difficulty. 1 1 i 

are highest in rank. T can prove that if the history we have be 
not true, then the fiction is the greater miracle. I can prrK'e 
that the love of God, displayed in Christ, so far transcends the 
highest pagan conception of the relation of gods and men. as 
manifestly to cause every honest mind to recognize its super- 
human origin. But after I have brought out all my proof to 
convince the intellect, I am conscious of other evidence which 
I cannot utter ; which I can neither write or speak. It satis- 
fies me ; for it is the secret of the Lord. I know I have passed 
from death to life. I know that the Son of Man has come and 
given us an understanding that we may know Him that is true. 

Much perplexity arises froin this source, and as the young- 
Christian begins the investigation of the deepest problems that 
can engage the human mind, it is not to be wondered that he feels 
the difficulty of doubt. But should such an one join the Church? 
1 think so. There was an honest doubter among the disciples. 
God does not force any man's faith. If any man asks evidence 
He will give it. He will say to every honest doubter "Reach 
hither thy finger and behold my hands ; and reach hither thy hand 
and thrust it into my side ; and be not faithless, but believing." 
Such as the Lord instructs the Church may accept. 

Every Christian will have to struggle with doubt. It may 
take the form already indicated, or it may be that he will doubt 
one or more of the accepted doctrines held by the Church to 
which he is attached. In such an instance the question is hard- 
ly one for the candidate to decide. It is for the Church. Can 
the Church receive such an one? According to Scripture, I 
answer, yes. "Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not 
to doubtful disputations." The practice of Churches is scrip- 
tural, although those who regard our method of receiving mem- 
bers as loose, had better look at home, and see if a ' 'general 
assent" does not mean a strong dissent from some particular and 
even vital point. 

A Christian will find a difficulty arising between love and 
selfishness. Sin is essentially selfish. Men break God's law 
and neglect to keep His commands, in order to gratify and 



1 12 Lecture VIII. 



please themselves. The Christian is born again, and into a 
mode of life in which love to God and man is to rule. He 
knows he has passed from death unto life, because he loves the 
brethren. He loves the brother, because the Father first loved 
him. Nor does he love in thought or in word, but in deed and 
in truth. Against this, the old carnal life protests. Men are 
unloveable and unthankful. They are stubborn, and will not 
readily respond to His affection. He takes the New Testament 
idea of a church, and sees it to be a congregation of men and 
women, who meet to worship God through Christ, and so cul- 
tivate the spirit of Christ. And he knows the spirit of Christ 
to be eminently love. He regrets that he cannot love men, 
that his affections grow cold. He believes in universal brother- 
hood as a theory ; but when it comes to practice, his old nature 
and habits decline. He thinks he ought not to join the Church 
in this condition. 

Herein have I sketched the difficulties which occur to men in 
their way from the Cross to the Church. They are not fancy 
pictures, but facts. Most pastors will recognize in them the 
the likeness of true objects. 

It is now my purpose to show the manner in which these 
difficulties were overcome. 

I said, in a previous lecture, that God is never behindhand 
with His remedies. I now say that He is never behindhand 
with His grace. He giveth grace for grace. As our day. so is 
our strength. His grace is sufficient for us. Strength comes 
before trial. Bunyan places at the foot of the hill a spring. 
The Pilgrim refreshes himself thereat, and attacks his difficul- 
ties in the strength thereof Let that spring represent some 
means of grace ; say, a season of private prayer, of quiet 
meditation, diligent study of the Word of God ; earnest pub- 
lic worship — one or all of these means, that we use to obtain a 
supply of Divine strength. 

Observe, particularly, the spring is before the journey. How 
true to nature ! As if God, from all eternity, anticipated the 



The Hill Difficulty. 113 



need of travelers, at the foot of hills you may find the coolest, 
and most refreshing springs of water. Behind, beneath, in the 
rocks which the human eye cannot see and the mind does not 
imagine, God is filtering water, and, before the tourist ascends 
the mountain, opens a vein in its side, and lets it flow for his 
strength and comfort. 

Let this fact of nature be a lesson in religion, and then it 
will correct a very unscriptural idea of worship, both public 
and private. We too often think, and, perhaps, teach, conscious- 
ly or unconsciously, that prayer and faith are only to blot out 
sins. Are there not some in this condition? Do they not sin, 
and then go to church, or go to private prayer, for forgiveness 
to wash it all away ? I know that there are men in this state. 
But, brethren, worship should always precede sin ; it should be 
used to prevent sin. Believe me. God is more glorified in your 
virtue than in your penitence. You are to pray that you may 
not be led into tempation, but delivered from evil. There is no 
virtue in being happy in sin, and then going to church and 
calling ourselves miserable sinners. If we are miserable sinners, 
had we not better pray for grace to leave them off? You probably 
remember the case of King Saul ; how he disobeyed the com- 
mand of the Lord, and then sought to atone for his disobedience 
by offering a very large sacrifice? He put worship in the 
wrong place. He should have sought strength to keep the 
command. And now listen to the words of Samuel to the 
mistaken man, " Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offer- 
ings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the Lord?" A 
very emphatic way of .saying that he had not? It would be 
well to remember that God having raised up his Son Jesus, 
sent Him to bless you in turning away every one of you from 
your iniquities. 

The privilege I set before you has the merit of possessing 
common sense. In the other method, there is neither wisdom 
nor goodness, but very much presumption and, frequently, very 
— 15 



1 14 Lecture VIII. 



much sin. We rise in the morning, and eat our early meal 
to provide against exhaustion. Gymnasts practice long and 
well, so that in the day of trial they may accomplish their pur- 
poses with ease and success. We send our children to school 
during the whole of their early life, so that they may be pre- 
pared for the duties of men and women, when they become 
such. To-day's work is but preparation for to-morrow's want. 
Let us be as wise in religion as we are in other things. Let every 
spring in nature, every well by the wayside, every time our 
table is spread, every child we send to school, teach us this 
important lesson that grace is given so that we may conquer 
difficulties, the world, the flesh, doubt, and the devil — yea, that 
God is more glorified when we obtain from Him so much 
strength that these difficulties disappear. 

The way was so steep and rugged that he used all manner of 
means to succeed, "running, going, clambering." He had to 
use all his strength, and exert all his faculties. There is some- 
thing grandh' heroic in him. He doggedly determined to keep 
on. So must you. How I have kept on, I do not know. I 
have had as many battles in the flesh as most of you ; had as 
many doubts and questionings as you ; am naturally as selfish 
as any of you, but here I am, by the grace of God. It has 
only been by persevering in the teeth of difficulties. God has 
fashioned all our hearts alike. He hath made of one blood all 
men, and therefore what is true of myself, I opine to be true 
of \-ou. If we are Christians to-day, we owe it to daring, de- 
termined faith. 

We need not wonder that our Christian grew tired, for we 
have often been weary ourselves. In this tired condition, tired 
of struggling with the flesh, the world, with doubts, and against 
a covetous self; tired of pressing on to apprehend that for 
which we were apprehended in Christ Jesus, we have sought 
rest and refreshment, and when we have turned unto the Lord, 
we have found it. There are times of refreshing from His 
presence and in His presence. This is graphically portrayed by 
Runvan. 



The Hill Difficulty. 115 

" Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleas- 
ant harbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of 
weary travellers." 

Here is a piece of English scenery. The harbor and the settle 
are perfectly natural. I have climbed many such hills as a 
child, boy and man, and found provided on them just such a 
retreat as is here described. I call to my mind one on Minster 
Hill, near one of the first churches built in Great Britain, from 
which I used to sit and look seaward to the German Ocean, and 
there invigorate my body, educate my mind and refresh my soul. 
Then, turning landward, look over old battle-grounds and Norman 
ruins, partially hid like billet-doux in boquets amid the cherry 
orchards and hop gardens of Kent. And I think the hills of 
Matlock, Buxton and Chatsworth, where, with almost princely 
munificence, such are provided. Here you may rest and inhale 
the perfume of the wild hyacinths, listen to a concert of birds, — 
the lark singing in the heavens, and the woods vocal in re- 
sponse, — watch a tempest playing on a distant hill, see pictures 
such as only the sun can paint, the river rippling, sparkling, 
splashing merrily at your feet, the rocks clad in fern and shrub, 
the hedge-rows in white blossom like the bride of summer, the 
banks covered with the forget-me-nots — here you may sit, think 
and feel thoughts too deep for tears, and forget your sorrows 
and weariness, till the intoxicating enchantment will lull you 
to sleep. I have seen many asleep in them, and have fallen 
asleep in such harbors myself.. 

I pity the man who does not enjoy such a place ; but I pity 
the man more who thinks that such places were made to sleep 
in. I pity the man who cannot, and does not, find refresh- 
ment in prayer and praise and worship, but I pity more the 
man who is asleep in such exercises. And yet many are 
asleep ; so much so, that they don't care to be roused. But 
our Pilgrim was roused. There came One to him who said, 
"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be 
wise. " 



1 16 Lecture VIII. 



God, in His book, sa}-s, " Let us not sleep as do others," 
" Woe to them that are at ease in Zion." " Awake thou that 
sleepest. " The enemy of our souls takes advantage of such 
seasons, and through the "times of refreshing" insinuates into 
our hearts such influences as will make us slumber. I have 
heard of poisonous insects making such slumbers fatal. A 
Christian asleep is like a Christian dead, and therefore useless. 

Luther says: "The devil once held a conference with his 
emissaries. They came from the four quarters of the globe, to 
report their doings. One said that he saw a ship freighted with 
Christians crossing the ocean, and that he had gathered to- 
gether the four winds of heaven, and blew upon it so that it 
was wrecked, and everyone drowned. 'What of that?' cried 
the devil ; ' their souls were all saved ! ' Another affirmed that 
he had seen a caravan of Christians journeying through a 
desert ; that he had gathered the wild beasts of the forest, and 
set them on ; that he saw them killed, their flesh eaten, their 
blood drank, and their bleached bones left on the desert sand. 
'What of that?' cried the devil; 'their souls were all saved!' 
Then another came forward, and tremblingly said that he had 
tried for ten long, weary years to get one solitary Christian 
asleep, and had finally succeeded. Then the devil shouted, 
and all the sons of hell danced and yelled for joy." 

If this parable contains truth, again let me ask you to beware 
of sleep. 

Sleep is sinful to the Christian. Asleep, he cannot do the 
will of God. Oh, my brethren, do not let God's most precious 
communications to your souls produce this effect. Wait on the 
Lord, so that you renew your strength; mount as on wings of 
eagles, run and not get wear\', walk and not faint. 

The consequence of the sleep was — 

1. He lost his roll. 

2. He was filled with shame and sorrow. 

3. He had to retrace his steps. 

4. He had to pursue his journey in darkness. 



The Hill Difficulty. i 17 

You will be anxious to know what became of his companions 
who came with him to the bottom of the hill. They thought 
to escape the difficulties of the hill by going round it, thinking 
that the ways would meet. But they did not. To escape 
difficulty in the Christian life is to meet danger and death. 
This, Formalist and Hypocrisy discovered too late. 

Brethren, there are difficulties in the way of righteousness, 
but there is neither destruction nor death. Righteousness 
leadeth to life. Which will you choose — the Life or the Death ? 



LECTURE IX 



THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL. 

[Synopsis of Chapter.— Christian arrived at the Palace Beautiful, and was 
afraid to enter, in consequence of two lions which appeared in his way. He 
would have gone back had not Watchful the Porter told him that they were 
chained. He was introduced to Charity by Watchlul, and then by Charity 
to the other members of the household, who united in giving him a very cor- 
dial welcome. They obtained from him a history of his journey, spread their 
table for him. and spent their time in profitable conversation. They put him 
to rest in a large upper chamber, where a window opened towards the sim- 
risiug : the name of the chamber was Peac^. Here he slept till break of 
day. In the morning they had more discourse. Then they led him to the 
Study, and afterwards to the Armory. He stayed with them a second night. 
On the morrow they led him to the top of the house, trom whence they 
shewed him the Delectable Mountains, and told him that when he reached 
them he would be able to see the gate of the Celestial City. They led him 
back to the Armory, where they armed him from head to foot for future con- 
flicts. After which, they accompanied him to the foot ot the hill to the valley 
of Humiliation, where they took leave of him, and gave him a loaf of bread, 
a bottle of wine, a cluster of raisins, and then he went on his way.] 



CHRISTIAN was almost persuaded to go back when he met 
Mistrust and Timorous, and heard their report of the dan- 
gers of the way. But he reasoned with himself in this fashion : 
"If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire 
and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I can get 
to the Celestial City, I shall certainly be in safety there. I 
must venture ; to go back is nothing but death ; to go forward 
is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go 
forward." After he had made this noble resolution, he discov- 



The Palace Beautiful. " 119 



ercd that he had lost his roll; was obliged to return to the place 
in which he had slept, and had to tread his steps thrice over, while 
he needed to have trod them but once. He returned to his journey 
in much self-condemnation. The sun went down upon him, and, 
in the gloom, he said, "O thou sinful sleep! How, for thy 
sake, am I like to be benighted in my journey ! I must walk 
without the sun ; darkness must cover the path of my feet, and 
I must hear the noise of doleful creatures, because of my sinful 
sleep." Then the fears excited by the story of Mistrust and 
Timorous prevailed. "But while he was bewailing this un- 
happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold there 
was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was 
Beautiful." 

This palace is intended by our Author to represent the 
Church of Jesus Christ. He further states its origin and de- 
sign. " It was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and 
security of pilgrims. " Another thought is clearly revealed ; the 
straight and narrow way of righteousness through Jesus Christ 
leads to the Church. From the first, the men and women who 
follow Christ have, as if by instinct, knit themselves together 
for the purposes of worship and usefulness. A power in the 
heart should certainly bind us as firmly together as a precept in 
a book, even though that book be the Bible. 

Bunyan takes an Old Testament fact. The hill of Zion ; her 
towers and palaces were called Beautiful. " Beautiful for situa- 
tion, and the joy of the whole earth is Mount Zion." The 
temple and its worship were both beautiful. That beauty in- 
heres in religious life, has been felt through all time. In all 
ages men have decorated their temples. All feel that the ser- 
vice of praise should be beautiful. When it is not, it fails 
properly to impress the mind. Worship the Lord in the beauty 
of holiness. Men are not willing to appear in Church as else- 
where. I'^or worship, they put on their best clothes and man- 
ners. In the house of the Lord, men like to appear at their best. 

The beauty of a Church does not inhere in its material pos- 
sessions, however rich or brilliantly garnished, but in spiritual 



I20 Lecture IX. 

gifts and graces, for the Church is a spiritual combination of 
men. It is the family of God, named after Jesus Christ. The 
beauty upon it is the beauty of the Lord. God is beautiful. 
Oh ! how great is His beauty! The fringe of a weed, the form 
of a blade of grass, the petal of every flower, "the meanest 
flower that blows," the myriad insects that fill the air on a 
summer night, the forest, the rill, the avalanche, the rock, the 
mountain, the clouds, the day, the night, the colors of light, 
the song of creation, declare in one voice that He hath made 
everything beautiful in its season. 

Christ is beautiful. He is the fullness of the God-head, 
bodily. Such fullness, such harmony, such proportion, such 
gentleness, such strength of virtue, were never seen in man 
before, nor have been since. To those who know Him not, or 
whose eyes are yet unenlightened by the Holy Ghost, He is as 
a root out of a dry ground ; there is no beauty in Him that they 
should desire Him. A man who does not love flowers, or who 
does not know flowers, will probably see no beauty in the 
gnarled bulbs of the gladiolus, dahlia, or lily, and will be careless 
and indifferent to them. But the man who loves the flowers 
will see, prospectively, in each ugly root a beautiful production, 
and in them all combined a still more beautiful garden, and take 
care of each in proportion to his love. They are to him very fair 
and dear ; so is Christ to those who know and love Him. He 
is the Rose, the Lily, the Branch. He is the fairest among ten 
thousand, and the one altogether lovely. To those who can ap- 
preciate moral beauty, there is none like Him. 

Now, Christians are Godlike and Christlike men, and there- 
fore they are morally beautiful. Men of meek and quiet 
spirits, men of righteousness, men of purity, men of peace, 
men of light, and men of love, affect the world morally as does 
a beautiful picture, statue or song aesthetically. Such men 
combined make a beautiful Church. "Must not that Church 
be beautiful where Watchful is the Porter, Discretion gov- 
erns. Prudence takes the oversight. Piety conducts the 



The Palace Beautiful. 121 



worship, and Charity endears the members one to another?" 
The beauty of the Lord is upon it. If any of these elements 
are wantinc:^, it is inharmonious, defective, and lacks so much of 
beauty. The Lord desires His bride, the Church, to be beau- 
tiful. 

The difficulties contemplated in joining a Church, by our 
Author and by others, are represented by two lions. They 
were chained and harmless, but Christian did not know it. 
They affrighted Timorous and Mistrust so much as to send 
them back to the City of Destruction. They brought our 
Pilgrim to a halt, ' ' for he thought that nothing but death was 
before him." Perhaps he would have gone back, if Watchful 
the Porter had not relieved his fears. 

The difficulties portrayed refer unquestionably, first, to the 
disabilities under which Non-conformists lived in Bunyan's time; 
and. secondly, to the many fears which persons feel at taking 
such a step. 

To join a dissenting Church — a Congregational or a Baptist, 
for example — in his day, was to face the lion of the state ; he 
was thereby prohibited from obtaining or holding any civil 
office. It was in every way a disadvantage and regarded as a 
social disgrace. It was a crime to attend any dissenting place 
of worship. A justice might commit for such an offense with- 
out a jury. For the third breach sentence of transportation for 
seven years might be passed ; and should the criminal return 
before that time, he might suffer death. Ministers and others 
who would not conform to the Established Church were pro- 
hibited from going within five miles of a corporate town, or of 
any place where they had formerly resided. "For a time the 
clergy of the Church as established by law, made war on schism 
with so much vigor, that they had no leisure to make war on 
vice. The ribaldry of Etherege and Whicherly was, in the pres- 
ence and under the sanction of the Church, publicly recited, by 
female lips, in female ears, while the author of the Pilgrim's 
Progress languished in a dungeon for the crime of preaching the 
Gospel to the poor."* 

* Macaulay. 

— 16 



122 Lecture IX. 

John Bunyan was a Baptist; he knew what he was risking 
when he joined himself to the ' 'sect everywhere spoken against. " 
But he was too conscientious to be other than true. When on 
one occasion about forty souls had gathered at the village of 
Samsel to hear him preach, and he had announced this treason- 
able (?) text, "Dost thou believe on the Son of God," the door 
opened and a justice of the peace and a posse of constables 
made their appearance. For this crime they marched him to 
prison; for the crime of "having many meetings together to 
pray to God and to exhort one another." for having "the sweet, 
comforting presence of the Lord among them, " he was sentenced 
by the authorities of the Church, as established by law. in these 
words: "You must be led back again to prison, and be there 
for three months following ; at the three months' end. if you do 
not submit and go to church to hear Divine service, and leave 
your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and if after 
such a day as shall be appointed you to be gone, you shall be 
found in the realm, you shall stretch by the neck for it." But 
you have ho such disabilities as these, and they are removed in 
England now. Right has triumphed over might, and Dissent- 
ers keep toll-gates and post-offices, collect taxes, have seats in 
city councils, represent the people in parliament, are made sol- 
diers and lawyers and judges, are entrusted with secrets and 
business of the state, send their sons to the best public schools 
and national universities, and yet "'tis strange! 'tis passing 
strange!" the country remains. 

Perhaps the matter is explainable by taking into account that 
there is one class of men who are seeking salvation through 
Christ, and another class who are seeking it through a Church. 
The latter have always hated the former. 

This lion does not exist in this land. Should the day ever 
come when any one section of the Catholic Church shall have 
the legal right to insult the religious history of America and the 
other sections of the Church of Christ in this land, by calling 
itself "The Church of America." then the other lion will have 
established itself at the ©ate of the Palace Beautiful. But that 



The Palace Beautiful. 123 

day can never conne. Even if the lion should come deprived 
of the teeth of the law, it would create an aristocracy on a reli- 
gious foundation which I need not say is foreign to the idea of 
Jesus Christ. It would be an unhappy marriage for both Church 
and State. The parties are not congenial. God would divorce 
the Church for adultery, and man the State for incompatibility 
of temper. The sentence would be wise, with costs divided 
between the parties. 

The other lion represents the fears which conscientious per- 
sons endure in the prospect of uniting with a Christian Church. 
They fear that they are not qualified ; the Church will not re- 
ceive them ; they are not old enough, have not sufficient expe- 
rience; or that they will some time or other disgrace their pro- 
fession. We take no important step in life, embark in no new 
enterprise without such feelings. The same elements of our 
nature are roused when we attempt this. For the sake of those 
who are desirous of joining a Church, and yet may fear to do so, 
I may describe the process of admission, as Bunyan conceived 
it, and as I think it ought to be. 

Watchful, the porter, allayed Christian's fears concerning the 
lions, and told him that they were chained, and were not there to 
hurt, but to discover the faith of the Pilgrims. After discovering 
whom he was and whither bound, the porter led him to the door 
of the house. Here he was met by Discretion. Watchful gave 
her the history he had learned from the Pilgrim. She ques- 
tioned him further, and as his answers satisfied her, she intro- 
duced him to others of the household ; Prudence, Piety, and 
Charity. 

We are here taught that we are to be watchful for souls, as 
those who must give account to God. We are to encourage 
those who are found in the way of righteousness to join the 
Church, as did the Porter, but while we do this, exercise Dis- 
cretion. Every one is not fit for church membership, not even 
all who apply. It would save some men to keep them out. 
But, in these days, when moral success is judged by arithmetic, 
when many, and not much, is the standard, we are likely to be 



124 Lecture IX. 

careless. In building a house, you take care to sort your lum- 
ber ; you do not put into it any that is unseasoned or unsound, 
because you know it will shrink or rot, and your house become 
unsafe, uncomfortable, and worthless. In like manner the 
admission to our churches of unprepared souls will destroy 
them. Two cannot walk together unless they are agreed. 

With Discretion, Charity. Prudence, and Piety, he entered 
the Palace. Many of the members of the household met him 
at the threshold, saying, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; 
this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to en- 
tertain such pilgrims in. " After he had received refreshment, 
they proposed conversation, and appointed Piety, Prudence, 
and Charity to' have "particular discourse" with him. The story 
shews that Piety derived from him an account of his motives 
and a history of the events of the pilgrimage, with which we 
are acquainted. Prudence learnt the state of his affections to- 
wards the things that were behind, and Charity got to know 
what he had done to bring others on the way. He stood the 
test which each applied, and by this time supper was ready. 

Now I wish you to notice one thing, particularly. . In all their 
conversation, and they had much ; in the entire examination, 
and it was long and searching; not a single doctrinal question 
was asked, nor a solitary theological dogma discussed. 

It is thought and said that those of us who would waive a 
theological examination of those who apply for church member- 
ship, are loose and liberal ; and that we have adopted our ideas 
because they are new ; and that these views, if universally adop- 
ted, would make the door of the Church too wide. My breth- 
ren, it is not so. Our views are not new. They are as old as 
Pentecost. They were received from heaven, in the gift of the 
Holy Ghost. Neither would they make the way to the Church 
too broad. We have too many heartless men and women in 
our Churches already. They are intelligent enough to assent to 
a creed, and to e^ive the technical meanino; of theological terms. 



The Palace Beautiful. 12; 
• ■' 

The original test of Christ and his apostles was love to God 
and man. It has never been disannulled. Other things have 
been substituted for it. but it still stands, the eternal essential of 
Christian life — a nature like God's, the spirit of love. And so 
we say to those who push a creed before the candidate, breth- 
ren, it is you who make a mistake ; your views are new ; you 
have no warrant for them in the New Testament. You are 
working ruin to the Church, even if you do add to it daily a 
number of those very respectable, well-to-do people, who have 
no need to be born again. Moreover your practice is unwise 
and unphilosophical. The fellowship of the Church does not 
rest on the social or intellectual basis, but on the higher — the 
spiritual. It is therefore wrong to admit members on the face 
of a dead creed, if Christ demands a soul of holy love. John 
Bunyan is on our side, both in his allegory and in practice. His 
Church at Bedford was "founded on the principle, and it is stiil 
observed, now two centuries since his death, of requiring from 
members simply faith in Christ and holiness of life, without res- 
pect to this or that circumstance, or opinion in outward or cir- 
cumstantial things," and says the latest incumbent of his pulpit, 
as though he had caught the mantle from the elder piophet, 
"On this truly catholic basis, and not on that of mere ecclesias- 
tical organization, may the Church of the future stand." To all 
of which we say Amen and Amen. 

But notice a more positive element in this matter. The 
admission of members into the Church should be the occasion 
of great joy. This is beautifully described in the abundant wel- 
come which I have already read ; then in the refreshments they 
gave him ; then in their conversation until supper was ready; 
then the supper, the table with fat things, and wine that was 
well refined ; and above all. the delightful talk "about the Lord 
of the hill ; as. namely, about what he had done, and where- 
fore he did what he did, and why he had builded that house;" 
and adds our Dreamer, "By what they said I perceived He had 
been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that 



126 Lecture IX. 

had the power of death, but not without great danger to himself, 
which made me love him the more." 

"Who can tell the joy, the bliss 
Of communion such as this! 
Tliese have been, let others say 
At the gates of heaven to-daj." 

Thus they discoursed together until late at night, and after 
they had committed themselves to the Lord for protection, be- 
took themselves to rest. The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper 
chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising; the 
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept until break of 
day. and then he awoke and sang — 

"Where am I now.'' Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are. 
Thus to provide! That I should be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven." 

Compare the ideas this suggests with our formal methods. 
We read a confession of faith from a book, to which the can- 
didate answers with a bookish assent. We read the terms of 
covenant from a book to the candidate, the Church agreeing 
thereto, as in duty bound, because it is in the book, responds 
from a book. The work is done, the books are carefully laid 
away for the next occasion, and the readers disperse. 

Learn a lesson from the blacksmith. When he wants to unite 
two pieces of iron so as to make them one. he does not attempt 
the task if both are cold, nor does he heat one and allow the 
other to be cold. No ! iron won't weld thus. But he heats 
them both to white heat, brings them together on the anvil, 
"strikes while the iron is hot," and so makes them one. Moral: 
You cannot weld a warm convert on to a cold Church. If there 
be joy in heaven over a sinner that repenteth, there ought to be 
some manifestation of it in the Church on earth. 

Just now you heard me strongly object to the reception of 
members into our Churches on a doctrinal basis. I do not re- 



The Palace Beautiful. 127 



gret what I have said, but I do regret that I cannot say it in a 
stronger manner. But now let me state the position of doctrine. 
After they had admitted Christian on the basis of experience 
and love ; on the facts of his history, motives, and purposes, 
then, and not till then, they led him into The Study. This is 
wise. A child must be born before he can be taught He 
must have a home and a school before he can be trained. A 
man must have spiritual life before he can receive spiritual 
things. I do not object to doctrine in itself, for I am bound as 
a steward of the manifold grace of God to take heed unto myself 
and to the doctrine, and I call you to witness that I am not 
ashamed to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the 
saints. 

Once delivered to the saints. I am not under obligation to 
defend every compendium of belief that claims to be the faith. 
The Study is the Word of God. Bunyan never read (at least 
history does not record it) a work on systematic theology. He 
had with him in prison the Bible and Fox's Book of Martyrs. 
After his release he obtained a copy of "Luther on the Gala- 
tians," so old that, says he. "it was ready to fall piece from 
piece if I did but turn it over." This is the only theological 
literature that we learn of as being in his possession, and it is 
practical and not scientific or speculative ; and yet, says the late 
Dr. Arnold, who echoes the sentiments of numbers in the high- 
est places of our literature, "I hold John Bunyan to have been 
a man of incomparably greater genius than any of [our divines] 
and to have given a far truer and more edifying picture of 
Christianity." 

If any of you were to send your sons to be practical engin 
eers, the first lesson they would have to learn would be this: 
Never to take a measurement except from the standard tem- 
plates. It is a fact that engines could not be made successfully 
if this simple rule were departed from. The old artists copied from 
nature. The leading scientists of to-day have always been bet- 
ter acquainted with nature than with books. There is a man in 
this country at whose feet the clergy sit, like children, to learn 



128 Lecture IX. 

the ways of God. He is a one Book man ; a Bible-made theolo- 
gian, it is these little departures from the Bible that make our 
Churches so powerless to-day. In vain have we put aside the 
commandments of God for traditions of men. Let us learn that 
the truest and only needed theology is in The Book of Books. 
Let us keep the best of books in our hands, and our eyes con- 
tinually lifted to heaven. 

From the Study they took the Pilgrim to the Armory, where 
they shewed him all manner of things illustrative of the principle 
"that the just shall live by faith;" shewed him the various in- 
struments by which holy men of old had won their several vic- 
tories; then he was clad with the helmet of salvation, the 
breast-plate of righteousness, the girdle of truth, the sandals 
of peace, the shield of faith ; yea, they harnessed him from 
head to foot with weapons offensive and defensive. Hitherto 
he had appeared in the robe he received at the Cross; now, 
that is covered with the habiliments of a warrior; he now enters 
a new period of his existence, in which he will have to fight his 
way. 

A question has often been asked; one which I will now try 
to answer: Cannot a man be a Christian without joining the 
Church ? I have no hesitancy in answering, yes ; and what is 
more, I will say that some of the best Christians are outside the 
Churches, and they are outside in consequence. They have 
such high conceptions of the Christian character, such fears that 
they will bring a reproach upon it, that they, for these reasons, 
do not ally themselves with God's people. The best man, by 
far, that I ever knew, who lived more like Christ than any other 
of my acquaintance, and to whom I am more indebted for what- 
ever aspiration I may have to follow my Lord, was not and is 
not a member of any religious denomination. Such as these 
the Church would be glad to receive. 

But while I have made these admissions. I want, in my turn, 
to ask you a question: "Ought not such men as I have descri- 
bed to join a Church?" The friend to whom I have alluded, 



The Palace Beautiful. 129 



the class which I have just described, would be better, inasmuch 
as they would do more good in the Churches than out. To do 
good as ye have opportunity, is the law of Christian life. To 
him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is a 
sin. The Church needs them. They ought to let their light so 
shine that men may see their good works. They ought not to 
put their candle under a bushel. They ought to add their house 
to the city set on a hill, so that it cannot be hid. Can any man 
be a good Mason or Odd-Fellow out of the lodge? Can he be 
a good party politician and yet lend his influence to the other 
side? Will you, then, my friends, who are Christians, continue 
to give your influence to the world? Unconsciously, I believe, 
you are against us. Whosoever is not with ME is against 
ME. He that gathereth not with ME scattereth abroad. 

After Christian had been so instructed, refreshed, and equip- 
ped, the members of the household went with him down the hill. 
Here they bade him farewell. He will have to go into the 
Valley of Humiliation alone. But they anticipated his wants; 
they gave him ' 'a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster 
of raisins." 

Thus to the vale they all descend, 
Whither the Pilgrim's footsteps tend — 

A lonely dell. 
They give him of their goodly store. 
As emblems of the love they bore, 

And then — Farewell. 



— 17 



LECTURE X. 



APPOLYON. 



[Synopsis of Chapter. — Scene: The Valley of Humiliation, where Christian 
was "hard put to it." He was met here by a foul fiend, named Appolyon. 
He was afraid, and debated with himself whether to go back or stand his 
ground. He decided to stand, for he remembered that, with all his armor, 
he had none for his back. He therefore resolved to meet the foe. "So he 
went on, and Appolyon met him."' "Now, the monster was hideous to be- 
hold ; he was clothed with scales like a fish j^and they are his pride) ; he had 
wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and 
smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion."' He began his attack by 
a series of questions ; then he claimed the Pilgrim as his lawful subject ; tried 
to persuade him to give up his journey, on the strength of many flattering 
promises ; and the assertion that nothing but sorrow could come to him if he 
persevered. This failing, he claimed him for unfaithful service ; reminded 
him of the Slough of Despond ; the wrong ways by which he had attempted to 
get rid of his burden ; the sinful sleep ; and fear of the lions. Christian re- 
mained unmoved. Appolyon therefore obstructed the way, declared himself 
the enemy of Christ, and began the fight. Christian stopped his darts by 
his shield, although they came as thick as hail. In the fight Christian lost 
his sword, and fell ; which Appolyon seeing, fell on him, to make sure of 
him. While he was letching his last blow to make an end of him. Christian 
nimbly reached out his hand for his sword and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not 
against me, O mine enemy ! When I fall, I shall arise," and with that, gave 
him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received his 
mortal wound. Christian conquered. After the battle, he partook of the 
provision given him by the sisters of the "Palace Beautiful," and bandaged 
his wounds with leaves from the Tree of Life. Thus refreshed and restored, 
he went on his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand. "But he met 
with no other affront from Appolyon quite through this Valley."] 



''"HHE Pilgrim was much refreshed in the Beautiful Palace, as 
J[ we have already seen ; but before he left, yea, while he was 



Appolyon. 1 3 1 

anxious to depart on his journey, unequipped, unprovided, and 
not sufficiently instructed, the Sisters "lead him to the top of 
house and bid him look south ; so he did ; and behold, at a 
great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, 
beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers 
also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold." 
This is "Immanuel's Land," the mountains are "The Delecta- 
ble Mountains," from which he will be able to see the gate of 
the Celestial City. Fired with the prospect he recommenced 
his journey. He had not traveled far ere he found his way ob- 
structed by a foul fiend named Appolyon, who objected to his 
pilgrimage, and endeavored to turn him back. He had to learn 
that a prospect and its attainment, a promise and its fulfillment, 
are different matters. 

Any man who is determined to realize hopes and ambitions, 
will have to meet and overcome the everlasting NO. No effort 
can be made in a worthy direction without discovering this. 
Let a young man resolve to save money for old age. His flesh, 
sense of present needs, the maxims of the world, will unite 
against the first effort, and when it is made, join their powers 
to undo what is done. Take the question of slavery. Slavery 
is wrong. To abolish it is right. But the attempt to do so met 
with powerful opposition. Many arguments were used and 
schemes proposed, but nothing was done until hostile forces 
met in deadly conflict and decided the matter by force of arms. 
The might of right is always opposed by the powers of evil and 
self-interest. Intemperance is a great evil. It is right to eradi- 
cate it. But let a man who has been addicted to drunkenness, 
and who, in consequence has suffered in body, mind, estate, 
family, and society, receive the vision of a restored home and 
manhood, family and social position ; let such an one take the 
usual or some unusual step to return to this, and he will be 
seriously opposed. Every step onward and upward will be dis- 
puted. He will be confronted by his appetites, habits, the 
thralldom of his character, companions and institutions, which 
in his reform lose the life of their existence. 



132 Lecture X. 

Let humane men attempt to control this evil, and hostile 
powers will immediately arise and fight for lawlessness. All 
manner of opprobious epithets will be applied to the reformers; 
they will be derided, probably persecuted ; bad motives will be 
attributed to them ; the power of money will oppose the power 
of righteousness. 

The farmer who conceives of a happy home on the Western 
prairie, will not realize his dream without conflict. With him, 
loneliness, lack of means, uncleared lands, miasma, tornadoes 
and filthy streams will contend. And it is only after years of 
fighting the timber, the swamp, the miasma, the mortgage, 
with faith, brains and patience incased in the axe, plow and 
drain, that he will conquer. 

The Christian life is no exception to this law. A Christian 
has to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, and personally 
contend with the enemy of his soul. The conflict of a Christian 
is in his spirit. It is a warfare that the eye does not see. It is 
the true battle of life. The battles of which we read in history 
— Marathon, Waterloo and Bunker Hill — are but shadows of 
inward facts. The battles of life are fought in the soul. The 
Christian struggles with an evil spirit other than himself. 
This other than himself we call The Devil ; Satan. 

But is there a dcviU A very important question to ask and 
decide. Bunyan believed in one ; the Scriptures declare the 
existence of one supreme prince of devils, and hosts of evil 
spirits under his control. The question that I have started is 
interesting. We must decide it one way or the other, or our 
allegory will have no meaning. There are various theories and 
beliefs extant on this subject. I propose to discuss them under 
four distinct heads : — 



I. 


The Pagan. 





The Christian. 


0- 


The Scriptural 


4- 


The Rational. 



Each of these is an attempt to explain the existence of evil 
in our midst. Men are not all bad, nor all good, yet of the 



Afi'oi.von. 133 

• . 

mass of men in civilized countries, if we may judge by the 
phenomena which comes to the surface of society, we may say 
that the thought of their heart is continually evil. The best of 
men affirm that they are frequently tempted in a most powerful 
manner to commit the worst of crimes. Some fall under the 
pressure of temptation. Others, again, make no distinction 
between evil and good ; they call light darkness, and say to 
evil, "Be thou my good," thus shewing that darkness hath 
blinded their eyes. Crime afflicts the world like a plague. 
Unaccountably whole communities and countries are moved to 
the commission of crime. Suicide and murder become mania- 
cal and epidemical. Under the name of religion, philosophy, 
science and humanity, the most revolting deeds have been 
committed. Evil is incarnated, deified, worshiped ; and I shall 
show that there is evidence to-day of "possession" in man of 
evil other than himself 

Now, how are we to account for this ? It is agreed on all 
hands that evil did not originate with God. The perfectly 
GOOD, the absolutely holy, could not create evil. The thought 
implies a contradiction. It is unthinkable. 

Man declares, by his individual efforts, by legislation, by his 
choice of the lesser evil, that it is foreign to him. He treats it 
as he tioes small-pox or scarlet fever. He is ever trying to 
banish it from himself and the world. Each man becomes 
vicarious to this end. It is not his normal condition. Sin is 
unnatural. Its results are dreaded by him. 

But we know nothing of moral evil apart from personality. 
We cannot attribute it to anything deprived of intelligence, 
affection and will. If, therefore, evil is not of God — and a little 
thought will convince you that it is not ; if man, everywhere 
and by every kind of effort, declares that it is foreign to him ; 
if, therefore, we know nothing of moral evil apart from person- 
ality — we are driven to the conclusion that it emanates from a 
being of intelligence, affection and will : this being we call the 
Devil. 



134 Lecture X. 

This diabolical power, exerted by this malevolent being, takes 
two forms — temptation and possession. 

Pagans make this being equal to God. The system of Zoro- 
aster makes him so, as also the religious system of the ancient 
Egyptians. In many Pagan countries he is worshiped now as 
an equal of the Supreme Being, and the phenomena of men 
under the absolute control of some evil spirit is not to be 
doubted. Says Robert Charles Caldwell: — 

*T contend that it appears that certain demonstrations of the 
present day, as far as outward evidence of their affliction goes, 
display as plain signs of demonical possession as ever were 
displayed eighteen hundred years ago. I hold that — as far as 
sense can be trusted and history relied upon — several pey-a-dis, 
or devil-dancers, could be produced to-morrow in Southern 
India, who, as far as can be ascertained, are as truly possessed 
of evil agencies as was the man who was forced by the fiends 
within him to howl that he was not himself, but that his name 
was 'Legion. ' Not a few of the persons I refer to are, on 
ordinary occasions, calm. They have their vocations, and often 
pursue them diligently. Sometimes they have their wives and 
children ; they possess their inherited hut, small plantain- 
garden, well, and score of palmyras. They eschew bhang as a 
rule, and the juice of the poppy, and arrack. They are quiet, 
sleepy men and women, who occupy much of their time in 
staring over the yellow drifting sands, at the quail-flocks as they 
flit hither and thither, or at the gaunt, solitary wolves which 
skulk under the shade of thorny thickets, waiting for an unwary 
goat to pass by. But evening draws near; the sunset reddens 
over the Ghauts; the deep mellow notes of the wood-pigeons 
grow fainter, and then cease ; fireflies twinkle out ; great bats 
flap by lazily overhead ; then comes the dull tuck of the tom- 
tom ; the fire before the rustic devil temple is lit ; the crowd 
gathers and waits for the priest. He is there! His lethargy 
has been thrown aside ; the laugh of a fiend is in his mouth. 
He stands before the people, the oracle of the demon, the devil- 
possessed ! About eight years ago, I was staying in Tinnevelly. 



Apfolyon. 135 

The priest appeared suddenly at the devil-temple before the 
expectant votaries. A caldron was over the fire, and in it was 
lead in a molten state. 'Behold,' calmly cried the priest, 'the 
demon is in me. I will prove to you all the presence within me 
of the omnipotent divinity.' With that, he lifted the caldron, 
and poured the liquid lead over his head. Horns were blown, 
tom-toms beaten, fresh logs of resinous wood flung into the 
fire, and goats duly sacrificed. The priest staggered about a 
little, and then fell down in a fainting fit. Three days after- 
wards he died in horrible agony. But his mind was clear and 
calm to the last. The latest words he uttered were, 'It is indeed 
I who am the true God!' In the midst of his fearful torture, 
and even in the hour of death, he believed, with the fiercest 
certainty of faith, that his body was the inviolate shrine of the 
almighty demon he adored. That demon was to him the 
Supreme. With that indwelling demon he .identified himself 
So he died, announcing his own divinity. Was that man 'pos- 
sessed of an evil spirit?' 

"The natives of Southern India believe that, when any one 
meets with an untimely end, his soul wanders about near the 
locality of his death, and will make deadly mischief unless it is 
appeased and propitiated. This propitiation, think the simple 
folk, can only be effected by offering to it those things in sacri- 
fice in which its possessor, whilst he was alive, delighted. But 
if, notwithstanding all precautions, an outburst of cholera, or 
other calamity, overtakes the scene of the dead man's last 
moments, the misfortune is at once, as a matter of course, laid 
at the door of the wraith of the deceased. Something has 
angered it. It will not be laid. It must be a malignant devil, 
and nothing short of it. Beat the tom-tom louder ! Let the 
fattest sheep be offered as a propitiation ! Let the horns blare 
out as the priest reels about in the giddy dance, and gashes 
himself in his frenzy! More fire! Quicker music! Wilder 
bounds from the devil-dancer ! Shrieks, and laughter, and sobs, 
and frantic shouts ! And over the long, lone valley, and up the 
bouldered mountain-side, under the wan moon, thrills out, sad 



136 Lecture X. 

and savage and shrill, the wild, tremulous wailing of women 
and yells of maddened men. — 'Ha, ha! I am God ! God! The 
God is in me and speaks ! Come, hasten, tell me all : I will 
solace you — curse you ! God is in me, and I am God ! Hack 
and slaughter ! The blood of the sacrifice is sweet ! Another 
fowl — another goat ! Quick, I am athirst for blood ! Obey your 
God !' — Such are the words 'which hoarsely burst from the frothy 
lips of the devil-dancer, as he bounds, and leaps, and gyrates, 
with short, sharp cries, and red eyes almost starting from 
their sockets. He believes he is possessed of the local demon, 
whom he continually treats just as if it were a divinity, and the 
people believe in the hallucination. They shudder, they bow, 
they pray, they worship. The devil-dancer is not drunk, for he 
has eschewed arrack. He has not been seized with epilepsy: 
the sequel shows that. He is not attacked with a fit of hysteria, 
although within an hour after he has begun his dancing, half of 
his audience are thoroughly hysterical. He can scarcely be 
mad, for the moment the dance is over he speaks sanely, and 
quietly, and calmly. What is it, then ? You ask him. He 
simply answers, 'The Devil seized me, sir. ' You ask the by- 
standers. They simply answer, 'The Devil must have seized 
him.' 

"Of one thing I am assured — the devil-dancer never 'shams' 
excitement. He appears to me deliberately to work himself up 
to a state of ecstacy — a 'standing outside of oneself, ' in its pri- 
mary sense. By a powerful act of volition, he almost wholly 
merges, so to speak, his individuality in that of the demon he 
worships, as that individuality shapes itself to his own mind. He 
calls out, T am God,' when, by virtue of his entire possession 
by the object of his adoration, he supposes himself to be com- 
mingled with the demon-divinity, his nature interfused by its 
nature. Calmly he laughs at the gashes which his own sacrifi- 
cial knife makes on his body ; calmly, I say, for in the midst of 
his most frantic frenzy he is savagely calm. • Whether this be 
devil-possession or not, I cannot help remarking that it appears 
to me that it would certainly have been regarded as such in New 
Testament times. 



Appolyon. 137 

Let me try once more to bring the whole scene vividly before 
the reader. 

"Night, starry and beautiful, with a broad low moon seen 
through palms. A still, solemn night, with few sounds to mar 
the silence, save the deep, muffled boom of breakers bursting 
on the coast, full eight miles distant. A lonely hut, a huge sol- 
itary banyan tree, grim and gloomy. All round spread inter- 
minable sands, the only vegetation on which is composed of 
lofty palmyras, and a few stunted thorn-trees and wild figs. In 
the midst of this wilderness rises, spectre-like, that aged enor- 
mous tree, the banyan, haunted by a most ruthless she-devil. 
Cholera is abroad in the land, and the natives know that it is 
she who has sent them the dreaded pestilence. The whole 
neighbourhood wakes to the determination that the malignant 
power must be immediately propitiated in the most solemn and 
effectual manner. The appointed night arrives; out of village, 
and hamlet, and hut pours the wild crowd of men, and women, 
and children. In vain the Brahmins tinkle their bells at the 
neighboring temple ; the people know what they want, and the 
deity which they must reverence is supreme just now. On flows 
the crowd to that gloomy island in the star lit waste — that weird, 
hoary banyan. The circle is formed ; the fire is lit ; the offer- 
ings are got ready — goats and fowls, and rice and pulse and 
sugar, and ghee and honey, and white chaplets of oleander-blos- 
soms and jasmine-buds. The tom-toms are beaten more loudly 
and rapidly, the hum of rustic converse is stilled, and a deep 
hush of awe-struck expectancy holds the motly assemblage. 
Now the low, rickety door of the hut is dashed open. The 
devil-dancer staggers out. Between the hut and the ebon shadow 
of the sacred banyan lies a strip of moonlit sand ; and as he 
passes this, the devotees can clearly see their priest. He is a 
tall, haggard, pensive man, with deep-sunken eyes and matted 
hair. His forehead is smeared with ashes, and there are streaks 
of vermilion and saffron over his face. He wears a high coni- 
cal cap, white, with a red tassel. A long white robe, or angi, 
shrouds him from neck to ankle. On it are worked, in red silk, 
—18 



138 Lecture X, 

representations of the goddess of small-pox, murder, and cholera. 
Round his ankles are massive silver bangles. In his right hand 
he holds a staff or spear, that jingles harshly every time the 
ground is struck by it. The same hand also holds a bow, 
which, when the strings are pulled or struck, emits a dull boom- 
ing sound. In his left hand the devil-priest carries his sacrificial 
knife, shaped like a sickle, with quaint devices engraved on its 
blade. The dancer, with uncertain staggering motion, reels 
slowly into the centre of the crowd, and then seats himself 
The assembled people show him the offerings they intend to 
present, but he appears wholly unconscious. He croons an 
Indian lay in a low, dreamy voice, with dropped eyelids and 
head sunken on his breast. He sways slowly to and fro, from 
side to side. Look ! You can see his fingers twitch nervously. 
His head begins to wag in a strange, uncanny fashion. His sides 
heave and quiver, and huge drops of perspiration exude from 
his .skin. The tom-toms are beaten faster, the pipes and reeds 
wail out more loudly. There is a sudden yell, a stinging, stun- 
ning cry, an ear-piercing shriek, a hideous, abominable gobble- 
gobble of hellish laughter, and the devil-dancer has sprung to his 
feet, with eyes protruding, mouth foaming, chest heaving, 
muscles quivering, and outstretched arms swollen and straining 
as if they were crucified ! Now, ever and anon, the quick, 
sharp words are jerked out of the saliva-choked mouth — 'I am 
God ! I am the true God!' Then all around him, since he and 
no idol is regarded as the present diety, reeks the blood of sac- 
rifice. The devotees crowd round to offer oblations and to 
solicit answers to their questions. 'Shall I die of cholera during 
this visitation ?' asks a grey-headed farmer of the neighborhood. 
'O God, bless this child, and heal it, ' cries a poor mother from 
the adjoining hamlet, as she holds forth her diseased babe 
towards the gyrating priest. Shrieks, vows, imprecations, 
prayers, and exclamations of thankful praise, rise up, all blended 
together in one infernal hubbub. Above all rise the ghastly 
guttural laughter of the devil-dancer, and his stentorian howls — 
'I am God ! I am the only true God !' He cuts and hacks and 
hews himself, and not very unfrequently kills himself there and 



Appolyon. ^ 1 39 

then. His answers to the queries put to him are generally 
incoherent. Sometimes he is sullenly silent, and sometimes, 
whilst the blood from his self-inflicted wounds mingles freely 
with that of his sacrifice, he is most benign, and showers his 
divine favors of health and prosperity all round him. Hours 
pass by. The trembling crowd stand rooted to the spot. Sud- 
denly the dancer gives a great bound in the air; when he 
descends he is motionless. The fiendish look has vanished from 
his eyes. His demoniacal laughter is still. He speaks to this 
and that neighbor quietly and reasonably. He lays aside his 
garb, washes his face at the nearest rivulet, and walks soberly 
home a modest, well-conducted man." 

What is the explanation of this? The victims say that it is 
devil-possession. The Scriptures say the same thing. Can it 
be explained on any other hypothesis? 

The doctrine of an evil spirit, called by Christians the devil, 
has been held by them since the commencement of the Christian 
era. The apostles found the Jews believing in demoniacal 
possession, and, if we are to take the history of His teaching 
and miracles as true, they too believed it. It matters not that 
the Jews may have learned the doctrine in Persia — the fact 
existed. Little indeed is said in the Old Testament of the 
enemy of souls, but when Christ came, when the Sun of Right- 
eousness appeared, the Prince of Darkness was exposed. You 
see no shadows in a dark night, but in the noonday sunshine 
they are to be seen everywhere. Men saw not the god of the 
world till He who lighteth every man who cometh into the 
world made his presence known. 

Afterwards Manes, a convert from Persia, appeared and estab- 
lished the doctrine of the Manicheans, compounded Zoroaster 
with Christ, and wrought into the Christian the Pagan idea that 
God and the Devil were equal, had been so from all eternity, 
and were therefore entitled to equal homage. Augustine for 
a time believed in the doctrine, afterwards became convinced of 
its superficialty, abandoned it, and preached against it. 

Later we find the doctrine of a personal devil the foundation 
of the system of witchcraft believed in by Christians of the early 



140 Lecture X. 

and middle centuries. The popular notion of this being was 
derived from sacred representations by monks in their myste- 
ries, miracles and moralities. It is much the same as that which 
artists now indulge in, and by which we were frightened when 
children. He was represented as "a large, ill-formed, hairy 
sprite, with horns, a long tail, cloven feet, and dragon's wings. ' 
Such was the conception which Luther believed, and which gave 
John Bunyan the material for his artistic description. Artists' 
angels and demons must be taken for what they are worth. But 
the Christian Church has been strangely impressed with their 
conceptions. 

It was also generally believed that there was an infinite number 
of inferior demons ; that the earth swarmed with millions of 
them ; that they led beautiful women astray, and increased and 
multiplied with fearful rapidity. The air was supposed to be full 
of them, and many unfortunate men and women drew them 
by thousands into their mouths and nostrils at every inspiration. 
Most persons said that the number of these demons was so great 
that they could not be counted, but Wierus asserted that they 
amounted to no more than seven millions four hundred and five 
thousand nine hundred and twenty-six, (it is well to be particu- 
lar in these matters), and that they were divided into seventy-two 
companies or battalions, to each of which there was a prince or 
captain. They could assume any shape they pleased. They 
sometimes made themselves hideous, and at other times they 
assumed shapes of such transcendent loveliness that mortal eyes 
never saw beauty to compare with them.* 

Coming down the centuries, we discover a great change in the 
opinion of man concerning the Devil, till Thomas Paine could 
say, with some amount of truth, "The Christian religion puts 
the Christian Devil above the Creator." The poets have made 
him a being to be admired. Macaulay, criticising the poem of 
Montgomery, entitled "Satan," says: "The poet, with the ex- 
ception of locomotion, has failed to represent a single Satanic 



* Mackay's Extraordinary Popular Delusions. 



Appolyon. 141 

, . • 

quality. We have yet to learn that Satan is a respectable and 
pious gentleman, and we would candidly advise Mr. Montgom- 
ery to alter about one hundred lines, and republish his volume 
under the name of Gabriel." Lamb says to Southey: "You 
have all your life been making a jest of the Devil. You have 
flattered him in prose ; you have chanted him in goodly odes ; 
you have been his jester, volunteer laureate, and self-elected 
court poet to Beelzebub." This is a decided change. But 
Milton's Satan has more profoundly impressed the Christian 
world. He proceeds on the principle that nothing is so much 
like an arch-angel as an arch-fiend ; therefore his conception and 
representation of the god of this world are grand and awful. 
The Miltonic Satan has influenced theology more than the Bibli- 
cal one. 

But what say the Scriptures ? They certainly teach the doc- 
trine of Satan's personality and power. 

Says Kitto: "We determine the personality of Satan by the 
same criteria that we use in determining whether Caesar or Na- 
poleon were personal beings, or the personification of abstract 
ideas, viz: by the tenor of history concerning them, and the 
ascription of personal attributes to them. All the forms of 
personal agency are made use of by the sacred writers in setting 
forth the character and conduct of Satan. They describe him 
as having power and dominion, messengers and followers. He 
tempts and resists ; he is held accountable, charged with guilt ; 
is to be judged, and to receive final punishment. On the sup- 
position that it was the object of the sacred writers to teach the 
proper personality of Satan, they could have found no more 
express terms than those which they have actually used, and on 
the supposition that they did not intend to teach such a doctrine, 
their use of language incapable of communicating another idea, 
is wholly inexplicable." 

Listen to the words of another : — 

"Should any person, in compliance with popular opinion, 
talk in serious language of the existence, dispositions, declara- 
tions of and actions of a race of beings whom he knew to be 



142 Lecture X. 

absolutely fabulous, we surely could not praise him for candor 
and integrity, but must suppose him to be either exulting in 
irony over the credulity of those around him, or taking advan- 
tage of their weakness, with the dishonest, selfish views of an 
impostor. And if he himself should pretend to known connec- 
tion with this imaginary system of beings, and should claim, in 
consequence of his connection with them, particular honors from 
his cotemporaries, whatever might be the dignity of his charac- 
ter in all other respects, nobody could hesitate for a moment to 
brand him as an impostor." 

This is sharp language ; nevertheless we think it will commend 
itself to your judgment. 

Without citing a number of proof texts, the Scriptural doc- 
trine of the devil may be summarized thus : — 

1. He exists. 

2. He is a person, an ego, with affection, intellect, and will. 

3. He is a moral being. A free agent, as we are, and 
therefore capable of guilt, and liable to punishment. 

4. He is a fallen being. He is not as he was when God 
created him. God created the devil, but not a devil. 

5. He is malicious. He seeks to destroy the children of 
God, by tempting and possessing them. 

6. He is a finite being. His power and influence are limi- 
ted in time and degree. He can do naught without the permis- 
sion of God, and no moral evil without the consent of man! 

7. He is the prince of devils. Thousands upon thousands, 
like minded with himself, are under his dominion and do his will. 

8. He has access to the souls, bodies and estates of men. 

These statements convey, in a very crude manner, the teach- 
ings of the Scriptures concerning him. 

The Rationalists object to the idea of a personal devil or 
devils. They also profess to believe in the Bible. We have a 
right to ask how, then, do they, with their belief, account for the 
statement of the Scriptures, the phenomena which we call 
demoniacal possession, certain cycles of crime, and the over- 
powering temptations of good men ? 



Appolyon. 143 

I. As to the Scripture statements. 

We are told that the terms Satan, Devil, Beelzebub, the Evil 
One, Appolyon, etc., are mere names for "the principle of 
evil ;" that these names are of fictitious characters, which per- 
sonify to the mind this principle. But the "principle of evil" 
is an abstraction. It is an intellectual conception derived from 
and applied to certain facts. It is a phrase by which we express 
the substance (that which stands under) of certain facts. They 
existed before man could abstract the principle. They exist 
now, that he is possessed of the conception. The question still 
remains, from whom aid the evil come? It is certain that it 
must have come from a person. Could it have come from God, 
who hates it, who seeks to deliver His children from it? Rea- 
son answers no. A fountain cannot send out sweet and bitter 
waters. Did it come from man? Man says no, by word and 
deed. It is his affliction, not his nature. But it may be said it 
arises out of man's imperfection. He is in a process of devel- 
ment, and evil is incidental to his condition. But "imperfec- 
tion" implies a negation. Out of nothing, nothing comes. 
But evil is something. We possess it, and are possessed by it. 
Is not the Scripture account reasonable ? Evil came from an 
evil person, who has access to the minds and bodies of men. 

II. If the plain Scripture statements are not correct, Christ 
has established a false doctrine. He has imposed on the 
world. Are you prepared to accept that conclusion? 

III. If the Scripture doctrine of devils be incorrect, and the 
Rationalistic be true, we have this result : — 

There was no evil before man. 

The Devil is a personification of the principle of evil. 

Therefore, man created the Devil. 

This result is unfortunate for those who talk so much about 
the dignity and goodness of human nature. 

It is unfortunate for those who, denying the doctrine, teach 
that man is in a process of evolution, that the race must evolve 
something. We need not laughingly bid them look back and 
say, "Behold your sires!" But we solemnly look onward and 



144 Lecture X. 

say. "Behold your offspring!" Aye, look! man that is too 
good and great to be imposed on by the Bible or to believe 
Christ; evolving fiends ! 

IV. The doctrine of demoniacal possession must be met by 
those who disbelieve in the Scriptural doctrine of devils: — 

1. It is explained on physiological grounds. Those who 
are said to be "demoniacs were merely epileptics, hypochon- 
driacs, or hysterical persons. Probably they were insane or 
lunatic." The explanation does not cover the facts. Sickness, 
dumbness, lunacy are sometimes, and at other times are not, con- 
nected with possession. We grant that many of the symptoms 
are alike, but that does not prove the cause to be the same. 
But how does this explanation meet the phenomena which I 
have brought from India, occuring at the present day, connected 
with Devil worship ; acknowledged by the worshipers who are 
ignorant of the Bible, to be demoniacal possession ; and which 
are clearly not lunacy, epilepsy, hysteria, or hypochondria? 

2. It is explained on moral grounds. It is said that all the 
Devil there is, or Devils there are, are in man, and these are 
nothing but a man's lusts and passions. What is lust? If we 
understand it, it is man's natural appetites desiring satisfaction 
unlawfully. The appetites are right, for God made them. 
They are essential to manhood. How is it that man sends his 
appetites in an unlawful direction for gratification ? It is unlaw- 
ful to do so. It is unnatural to do so. God made the law and 
adapted man thereto. His highest, fullest happiness is in being 
natural. God could not so move him. No man is tempted of 
God. The All Holy is not a partaker of any man's guilt. How 
is it? I ask. Is not man under the control of an evil personality 
other than himself? 

I would not mind these explanations so much if their advocates 
did not boast so much of enlightened reason, and pretend to 
give a rational explanation of the facts. To ignore phenomena 
is not a rational way of explaining them. 

Read a few passages of Scripture, substituting lusts and pas- 
sions for the Devil or Satan. — "And as he was coming, lusts 



Appolyon. 145 

and passions threw him down and tare him, and Jesus rebuked 
lusts and passions, and healed the child." 

Jesus was led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be 
tempted by the principle of evil ; or to become subject to 
lunacy, hysteria, melancholy, or epilepsy ; or He was led up of 
the Spirit to be tempted by lusts and passions. Then He who 
delighted to do the will of God from His heart — He who was 
the perfect man — felt within Himself great desires for gratifying 
His hurrian appetites in an unlawful manner. Then Christ 
desired to break the law which He came to fulfill, and which He 
delighted to fulfill. In His heart, and therefore in the sight of 
God, He was a sinner. He broke the tenth commandment, 
longing to break the seventh and eighth Are you prepared 
for the conclusion ? Could God have been well pleased with Him ? 
The absurdity and impiety of such statements need no refutation. 

Suppose that the views which I have given as Rationalistic 
were correct, what would be the practical result? 

1. There is no personal devil, but by the devil is meant the 
principle of evil. The principle of evil is merely an abstraction. 
What do practical men care for an abstraction ? The masses 
do not know what we mean by the term. The devil is revealed 
to metaphysicians only. Who cares to fight an abstraction ? 
There is no heroism in knocking down a man of straw. 

2. Supposing demoniacal possession to be but a physical 
malady, then there must be a physical cause. But has the cause 
been discovered? Has the riddle been solved? Is it not a fact, 
known to all that have studied the subject, that such diseases 
are frequently mental, having a mental cause ? Ay ! we may 
go deeper, and ask, is it not true that the cause is farther in the 
victim than the brain, and arises from the unnatural condition of 
the soul. It is from these latter causes that mental and moral 
remedies are needed and applied. 

3. If demoniacal possession is lust, then one of two things 
is certain — either that lust is part of the original constitution 
of man, and therefore right, or it is foreign, and therefore 
wrong. If of the original constitution, there is no lust, man need 

— 19 



146 Lecture X. 

not strive against it. Wrong is right, and right, wrong. But 
if it be a foreign spirit moving him from righteousness, then, 
and only then, will he know it to be right to strive against it. 
and in striving, conquer it. 

In this way, my friends, I have brought forward arguments 
in favor of the personality of Satan and devil-possession. If I 
have taxed your patience in doing so, my apology is, that I re- 
gard it as one of his deceitful tricks, a pleasure t6 him and a 
folly in you, to deny his existence. How pleased must he be 
to hear a Christian deny his existence. He gives up the fight 
then. He allows you to tempt him then. But how many 
do it? You will think me old fogyish and not liberal, and 
wonder why / should advance such views. Brethren. I will 
tell you. Before I studied the subject I denied his existence as 
loudly as any of you. But since I have read and studied the 
matter I cannot do so. There is a rigid dogmatism on this sub- 
ject, as on all others, which I hate. There is also a looseness, 
a cheap liberalism on this and kindred subjects, which from my 
heart I despise. I despise it in myself, in books, and if I 
thought you had any of it I should despise it in you. 

The arguments I have advanced are not answered by a curl 
of the lip, an incredulous smile, or by assuming that you are ' 'ad- 
vanced thinkers." They can only be answered by facts and 
reason. Who art thou that repliest against God ? 

And now. as I have composed this Lecture largely from the 
thoughts and words of others, I will be consistent and conclude 
in the eloquent language of one who, when speaking on this 
subject, said: 

' 'The Bible theory is the only theory that can explain the 
manifest phenomena in the material and moral world. There is a 
God personal in His attributes and intelligent ; the source of 
authority ; the embodiment of wisdom, love, and power. There 
is on the other hand a being called Satan, equally individual ; a 
creature of vast cunning and power and wickedness ; the active, 
persistent adversary of God, and those of us who desire in our 
hearts to be like God. There is such a being, therefore, as Sa- 
tan ; and when men are commanded 'to resist evil,' it is not 



Appolyon. 147 

mere influences that they are enjoined to withstand, but the 
person, the evil mind and wicked heart, that directs them. Hell 
has its king ; and all its black legions obeyed the voice that first 
hurled defiance at God. He lives and moves as the directing 
cause and mainspring of all the wickedness done under the sun. 
Murder, with its red hand and all its fingers dripping blood ; 
Conflagration with her blazing torch ; Rebellion that desolates ; 
and all the lesser agents of evil — these are his children. To 
deny this, is to deny the Scripture ; for this doctrine is as a cen- 
tral thread in its strongly woven woof. It can be withdrawn 
only in the disruption of the entire piece."* 



* Kev. W. H. H. Murray. 



LECTURE XI 



CONFLICTS. 



[Synoi'sis ok (JiiAi-TKU.— Christian passed out of tl>e "Nalley ol'Ilumiliatiou" 
into the "Vulloy of tlie Hliadow of Death. " The way to the Celestial City 
lay throii^fh th<» inidHt of it. It was a V(ny solitary place. At the entrance 
he met two men who were fi^oin^ back, and who earnestly entreated him to 
follow their example. 'IMiey described the valhy as dark as pitch, full of 
hobfjfoblins, satyrs and dragons, where those who sit bound in affliction and 
iron continually yell and groan in intolerable misery. In the valley the path 
was very narrow ; on the one hand a deep ditch, on the other a dangerous 
(piag. In the middle of the valley he came to the mouth of hell. Here the 
battle btH;ame so fciirful an'? intense that his sword was useless, and he had 
to betake himself to tlie weapon of all-prayer. Here he was indeed hard put 
to it ; when he lifted liis foot to take a step he knew not upon what or where 
it would fall, lie did not know his own voice, but often mistook the whis- 
pering of liends for it. In the darkness he was deliglited to lind that he 
was not alone, for ahead of liim was a traveler singing, "Though I walk 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Deatli I will fear no evil : for thou art 
with me." The sun rose upon his darkness, and by its light he discovered 
that the rest of the vale was also dangerous, for it was full of snares and 
traps set for him. But he escaped them, and in the sunlight came safely to 
its end. Here were seated two giants with blood, bones, and ashes strewn 
around them ; the name of the one was Pope, the other Pagan.] 



HI'", came down frotn the mountain, and like our Master, to 
contend with cicvils. ICvciy mountain sui^jrests a valley. 
An attack of fever leaves the body depressed and exhausted ; 
ships are borne across the ocean on billows ; nature preserves 
her equilibrium by storms and calms, clouds and sunshine, ebb 
and ilow, li^ht and darkness. It has often been noticed in 
Christian experience that an occasion of joy is followed by one of 



Conflicts. ^ 149 

corresponding depression. It is therefore quite natural for us 
to suppose that our Pilgrim, who has been so delightfully and 
richly entertained in the Palace Beautiful, will soon suffer severer 
fortunes. They began as soon as he had entered into the Valley 
of Humiliation. The descent thereto was dangerous, and al- 
though he took his steps warily, yet he caught a slip or two. 

Can you not imagine him in his new armor, strong in weapons 
of offense and defense, and almost longing to test his skill. Let 
us, with the picture of the Pilgrim in our minds, tarry to think 
of one fact: A Christians life is in conflict with evil. Just as a 
soldier's life is spent in battle with his country's enemies, or in 
defending his country from its enemies, whether foreign or do- 
me.stic ; so is a Christian's life spent in relation to evil. He has 
to attack and prevent it. I want you to think of this, for 
Christian living is earnest work. 

In countries where the money of the people is largely spent 
in support of enormous armies, where the glory of a nation is 
written in the tale of conquest, and not in the reign of peace — 
they have what are called "fancy regiments." In France it 
was the "Imperial Guard;" in Germany it is the "Leib Garde," 
in England it is the "First Life Guards." They are ostensibly 
established for protecting the person of the reigning sovereign ; 
but really they are institutions where men are allowed to play 
soldiers in time of peace, and from which they can ea.sily with- 
draw in time of war. The officers buy their commi.ssions in 
them, and sell out when they please. They enter for the honor, 
and when they have had enough of it. go out. The regiment 
is not supposed to go to war except in cases of great emergency. 
They are mere ornamental appendages to the royal chariots. 
They dress and talk like warriors, but in reality are not. And 
yet they are the proudest of the entire army, and look with 
contempt and scorn upon soldiers who are scarred and torn and 
maimed — the heroes of battles. They would be humiliated in 
being sent to war. In this country I have seen men playing at 
soldiers. They were exceedingly proud of their dress, rank 
and regiment. And I have seen these men called out to quell 
a riot, and after less than a week's endurance of military life, 



150 Lecture XI. 

although they were not in any engagement, become disgusted 
with the rough reahties of the duties they assumed. Now I 
want you to understand that there are no fancy regiments in 
God's service. None that you can enter and leave at pleasure. . 
He needs none such. If you join the church and appear before 
the world a professed Christian soldier, it is expected that you 
will fight the devil and all evil wherever and in whatever form 
they may be found. Personally an'd collectively your sworn 
allegiance to the Lord, our Righteousness, binds you to give 
sin no quarter. It will give you none, if you are true. You 
should fight intemperance, pernicious literature, gambling, pov- 
erty, ignorance, unbelief, and any evil that may obstruct the 
progress of yourself, the Church, or the world. If we do not 
destroy evil it will destroy us. If a farmer does not destroy 
the weeds they will destroy his farm. You are not to be a 
diletante Christian, but a soldier in conflict with spiritual wick- 
edness in high places. You must fight if you would reign. As 
Christ was, so must you be in the world. Make yourself of no 
reputation, and taking the sword of the Spirit, enter the fight 
under the banner of thy Lord ! 

"There's trouble on the way ; 
Christian! prepare thy ready bow, 
And strength, for this thy day! 

"Unsheath thy gHstening, trusty sword ; 
Thy spear bring forth with might. 
Pilgrim! be valiant, tor thy Lord 
And God defend the right!" 

Pardon this digression. Let us now follow our Author : — 
"Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but a little 
wa\' before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet 
him: his name is Appolyon. Then did Christian begin to be 
afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or stand his 
ground. But he considered again that he had no armour for his 
back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might 
give him greater advantage with ease, to pierce him with his 
darts : therefore he resolved to stand his ground : for, thought 



Conflicts. , 151 

he, harl I no more in my mind than the saving of my life, it 
would be the best way to stand." 

When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a 
disdainful countenance, and then began to question him : 

Whence came you ? and whither are you bound ? 

To these questions Christian was able to give a definite 
answer, for he knew what he had done, what he was doing, and 
whither he tended. He knew that lie had left the City of De- 
struction, was in the straight, narrow way. and that he desired 
to reach the Celestial City. If I take a walk to the depot 
to-morrow, and find you there ready for a journey, it is very 
likely that I shall ask "where you are going. " And if you replied 
that you did not know, or if the anticipated cars were going in 
the direction opposite the city you named, I think I should dis- 
play some sense in doubting your sanity. To-night I ask you, 
as Appolyon did Christian. "Whither bound?" Do you know 
where you are going ? Have you not heard that the way of 
unrighteousness leads to hell, and the way of holiness to heaven? 
You ought to be able to answer definitely the question. It is 
folly for a man not to know what he is living for. You know 
the old story of the oreacher, who preached from the text, 
"Adam, where art thou?" and divided it in this way: — 

First — All men are somewhere. 

Secondly — Some are where they ought not to be. 

Thirdly — Some will soon be where they won't like to be. 

A pretty good idea of the condition of human souls. You 
are going somewhere. Do you know the destiny to which your 
life leads you ? 

This matter of knowing really where you are, and whither 
bound, you can as easily tell as the blind man who .said, 
"Whereas I was blind, now I see;" or the Apostle who declared, 
that "we know we have passed from death unto life, because we 
love the brethren." 

Satan also claimed the Pilgrim as his servant and subject. 
Know ye not that ye are servants to whom ye obey? Every 
sinner's master is the devil, that old serpent who sinned from 



152 Lecture XI. 

the beginning. When he made this claim, Christian gave good 
reason for leaving his service. — "The service was too hard, and 
the wages such as a man could not live on. for the wages of sin 
is death." This is the reason why you should leave off sinning. 
The soul that sinneth shall die. They that sow to the flesh, 
shall of the flesh reap corruption. The sinner hath no hope in 
his death. The way of the transgressor is hard, and in the 
end weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. 

Satan next makes him great promises if he will but go back. 
"What our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee." 
This is the peculiarity of the service of sin: it is all promise. 
It is like John's book: in the mouth very sweet, but in the 
midst very bitter. All that comes of leaving righteousness is 
riotous living, rags and beggary. There are many kinds and 
degrees of sin, but the greater the sinner the more disappoint- 
ment and misery. Look at Lord Byron, with all that rank and 
wealth and genius could give him, who had given up his life to 
follow the pleasures of sin. Hear him in middle life, singing 
this mournful dirge: — 

"My days are in the yellow leaf; 

The flowerp, the fruits of love, are gone ; 
The worm, the canker, and the grief, 
Are mine alone. 

"The fire that on my bosom preys, 

Is lone as some volcanic isle ; 
No torch is kindled at its blaze, 
A funeral pile !" 

Such is the realization of sin's promises. Dante has told the 
tale in awful pictures. He makes hell to consist of the appetite 
that sin has created, the promise of satisfaction, and the ina- 
bility to realize it. 

My friends, do not believe one promise of the evil one. 
"Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpun- 
ished." One sin may eternally degrade you, as in the case of 
Reuben. The devil's promises are all lies. 



Conflicts. • 153 

Then he sought to turn him back by holding up to him the 
example of renegade Christians. "It is ordinary for those that 
have professed themselves His servants, after awhile, to give 
Him the slip, and return again to me." 

The statement is false in design, although partly true in fact. 
There are some who do go back, but all do not. Perhaps the 
majority of those who start, hold on. It was so from the begin- 
ning. Backsliders are anticipated in the word of God. Some 
of you "did run well, what did hinder you?" Some of you, "I 
tell you, weeping, are the enemies of the Cross of Christ." 
"Ye have crucified the Son of God afresh, and put him to an 
open shame." Some of you have betrayed Him with a kiss; 
some have denied Him; some have cried, "Not this man, but 
the robber, the adulterer, the drunkard;" others, like Pilate, 
have given Him up to popular opinion. But there is a way of 
giving the slip out West that is peculiar. In the East you were 
members of Churches, in "good and regular standing." Since 
you have come West, you have united with no Church, and 
have been careless about maintaining any distinct religious 
character. As soon as the restraints of society were removed, 
and you breathed our liberty, you left the disciples and con- 
verted this liberty into license. We know your excuses — 
"Affairs are not managed here as there," "Preachers are not so 
learned, so eloquent, or so great." But are these worthy rea- 
sons for you to stand aloof from the Churches of Christ as they 
exist? You will not be saved by worshiping Eastern preachers, 
Churches, or habits; in fact, there is an old commandment for- 
bidding it — "Thou shalt have none other Gods but me." Are 
these reasons worthy of those of you who have professed to 
love the Saviour? Are they such as to warrant you giving your 
influence against the powers that make for righteousness? In 
the P>ast, you believed in the perseverance of the saints. If that 
doctrine be correct, what manner of men are ye ? P^ither the 
theology is false, or you are of a reprobate mind. The cause is 
not the preachers or Churches of the East, but in yourselves. 
You are faithless to Christ, to conscience ; you find it easy to 
— 20 



154 Lecture XI. 

forsake Him, or to follow Him at a distance. Come back to thy 
Master. Once more take up the Cross and follow Him, and so 
be His disciple. 

He then claimed him on the score of past service. "Thou 
didst swear thy allegiance to me as thou hast to the King of 
Kings, yet I am willing to pass it by if thou wilt but go back." 

That is one of the results of sin. We are always being urged 
and held back by it. In our most sacred and solemn moments 
the memory of past guilt lies a heavy weight on our hearts ; 
our souls are forbidden to rise or to go forward in consequence. 
The sin of many years ago is like a foul weed in a garden, it 
now threatens to choke the Word, and make it unfruitful. 

Appolyon seeks to discourage him by referring to the dangers 
of the way. ' 'Thou knowest that for the most part his servants 
come to an ill end. How many of them have been put to 
shameful deaths?" 

Bunyan was suffering, at the time of this writing, in Bedford 
jail. This must have had some influence on his mind. In his 
"Grace Abounding" he acknowledges this. This world is no 
friend to grace to help us on to God. In it we shall have tribu- 
lation and suffer persecution. The world, and what is far worse, 
worldly churches, have put to death those of whom the world 
was unworthy. There is danger of persecution and martyrdom in 
the way of righteousness, but not ruin. He who would save 
his life shall lose it. 

The enemy then reminds him of the errors he has already com- 
mitted. Our Pilgrim made many mistakes, all of which are known 
to this accuser of the brethren, and all of which are detailed to 
the discomforture of Christian. What Christian has not made 
mistakes ? How frequently we have fallen into error ! In our 
folly chosen to sin ? Who is there so wise and good as not 
to have committed sins from the commencement of Christian life 
until now? And what Christian has not been accused of them 
to his frequent shame and disquiet ? 



Conflicts. 155 

Then Satan, completely foiled in argument, unable to move 
Christian from the way, declared war, saying : "I am an enemy 
to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and people. I am 
come out on purpose to withstand thee. " Then they fought ; 
Satan commencing by throwing a flaming dart at his breast, and 
following this up by throwing them as thick as hail. Appolyon 
wounded him in his head and hand and foot. He followed his 
work amain. Christian withstood as well as he could, but grew 
weak in consequence of his wounds. Then they closed. In 
the struggle Appolyon threw Christian. He had a dreadful fall. 
The fiend was sure of him now, and Christian despaired of 
his own life; but as God would have it, as the enemy was 
fetching his last blow. Christian reached his sword and caught 
it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I 
fall I shall arise;" and with that, gave him a deadly thrust, 
which made him give back as one who had received his mortal 
wound. This perceiving, he made at him again, saying, "Nay, 
in all things we are more than conquerers through Him that 
loved us." 

"In this combat no man can imagine — unless he had seen 
and heard — what yelling and hideous roaring Appolyon made 
in the fight: he spake like a dragon : and on the other side, 
what sighs and groans burst fronj Christian's heart. I never 
saw him, all the time, give so much as one pleasant look till he 
perceived he had wounded Appolyon with his two-edged sword: 
then indeed he did smile and look upward ! But it was the 
dreadfuUest sight that I ever saw." 

Brethren, the enemy of our souls desires our death. He 
goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 
We must meet his attacks with the Word of God ; that is the 
Sword of the Spirit. A Christian who is not well read in the 
letter of the Word is at a great disadvantage, as much so as a 
soldier in battle without a weapon. Job conquered by his 
knowledge of God's revealed will. Christ conquered by reply- 
ing to all temptations, "It is written." ''Then the devil left 
Him." The shield of faith will keep Satan from destroying us. 



156 Lecture XL 



but we need a weapon with which we can resist him. This 
weapon is the Sword of the Spirit: the Word of God. 

If you visit mihtary museums, if you go into some famiUes, 
you will be shown weapons with which decisive battles were 
fought. The old weapons are preserved. So in God's Church. 
There are many of the old swords wherewith the evil one was put 
to flight. There should be some such in each individual's his- 
tory. If "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall 
I shall arise;" — if "Nay, in all these things we are more than 
conquerers through Him that loved us," are the arms by which 
you have gained spiritual victories, preserve them in your 
memory, cherish them affectionately in your hearts, and when 
the enemy comes in as a flood, lift up these trophies of victory 
as a standard against him. 

In England, you may wander from one valley into the other 
without noticing the transition. The same valley has various 
local- names. You easily glide from one parish into another, and 
sometimes from one county to another. Geographically and 
geologically considered, the vale, is one; but politically, it is 
many. Local traditions fix the names. The scenery is proba- 
bly a little different, but essentially the valley is one. Bunyan 
makes the transition from the Valley of Humiliation to the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death as suggested by these facts. — 
' ' Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death. It is a very solitary place. 
The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : 'A wilderness; a land 
of deserts, and of pits; a land of drought, and of the sliadow 
of death; a land that no man (but a Christian) passed through, 
and where no man dwelt. ' Now, here Christian was worse put 
to it than in his fight with Appolyon." 

We must here resort to Bunyan's life to know what he means. 
Such experiences in his life owe their origin, no doubt : — 

I. To the greatness of his soul. 

The ripple of a rill is not to be compared to the waves of the 
sea; and, therefore, if we have no such turbulent seasons, it is 



Conflicts. 157 

owing to our littleness. Martin Luther, another great rugged 
soul, had such. God gives great battles to great hearts. 

2. To his training under Mr. Gifford. 

Bunyan, as we have seen, was always visionary. His intui- 
tional powers were extraordinarily keen. His pastor might have 
led him with great advantage through a regular and orderly 
study of the Word of God ; instead of this, he taught him to 
"attach great importance to sudden impressions, direct gleams 
of light, touches of isolated words, and phrases, and truths, 
which would bolt into the mind" without any apparent cause. 
This had much to do, undoubtedly, with his subsequent spiritual 
conflict. As you are aware, there are persons who are always 
feeling of their pulse, taking a diagnosis of their physical con- 
dition, reading domestic medicine, or consulting a physician. 
They are never well, but always under the weather. There are 
also others who are always looking into their hearts and lives, 
are acquainted with all their spiritual and moral diseases, real 
or fancied, and they are never robust Christians. For his own 
comfort, our Author looked too much within. As a rule, the 
less we inspect ourselves the better. Our hearts are gangrenous. 
To know too much of them is poison. Let us look to Jesus. 

3. To ill-health. 

This resulted from being put into prison. Howard mentions 
Bedford jail as the first that caused him to turn his attention to 
the condition of prisoners. Bunyan calls it a DEN. Howard, 
in 1789, says, "The men and women felons associate together; 
their night rooms are two dungeons ; only one court for debtors 
and felons; no infirmary: no bath." "With no room for air or 
exercise ; with little space for changing his position ; with 
hardly a chink for seeing the face of nature, and with, at one 
time, as many as sixty fellow-Dissenters crammed into a space 
which could not with common convenience hold more than 
twenty — to a man, in the thirty-third year of his age, of 
strong physical constitution, accustomed to great activity, and 
permitted to pour out his soul in moving appeals and invitations 
all round the country, such an incarceration, viewed even on the 
lowest grounds, was no trifling affliction." 



158 Lecture XI. 

In this place he fell into spiritual despondency. The mind 
was affected thereby, and again reacted upon the body. His 
breastbone seemed to be broken, and says he, "I was violently 
seized with such weakness in my outward man, insomuch that I 
thought I could not live. " " Live!" he cried ; "I must not — 
die ; I dare not." 

Here again he thought of the torments of hell, and many 
other sorrows, and now he says: "I will tell you a very pretty 
business ; I was once above all the rest in a very sad and low 
condition for many weeks, at which time also, I being but a 
young prisoner, and not acquainted with the laws, had this lain 
much upon my spirit ; that my imprisonment might end at the 
gallows for aught that I could tell. Now, therefore, Satan laid 
hard at me, to beat me out of my heart, by suggesting this 
unto me : 'But how if when you come indeed to die, you 
should be in this condition ; that is as not to savor the things 
of God, nor to have any evidence upon your soul for a better 
state hereafter ?' for, indeed, at that time all the things of God 
were hid from my soul." 

We see by this that the fear of Death was the Shadow of 
Death. We die many deaths in fearing one. The mere fact of 
physical dissolution did not seem to trouble him so much as the 
thought of the second death — eternal separation from God and 
our Lord Jesus Christ. 

We must die ; we have each done that which by nature ban- 
ishes us from God and the glory of his face. When afflicted 
and trained as he, men are too likely to look to the sentence of 
death in themselves, rather than to Him who said, "I am the 
resurrection and the life, and he that believeth in me, though 
he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and be- 
lieveth in me shall never die." Again I say, let us look to 
Jesus. 

This had a moral effect on his mind. I use the word moral 
to describe the nature and not the character of this effect. In 
the Allegory he thus describes it: "There was on the right 
hand a very deep ditch, and on the other a very dangerous 



Conflicts. 159 

quag." In his autobiography he tells us that he was in conse- 
quence tempted to doubt the being of God and Christ, and also 
tempted to blaspheme. The ditch, then, is Atheism, the quag 
guilt. 

Fear produces such effects. Fear of poverty often results in 
suicide. Fear of guilt exposed is an inward hell. Fear of fail- 
ure saps the life of success. Fear of death hastens it. Breth- 
ren, if God should send such dark seasons into your soul ; 
wherein you sigh bitterly and know not where your next step 
will land you ; when your reading of the Bible, instead of 
bringing you comfort, adds to your torture ; when you think' 
that all the writers are pointing at you and holding you in de- 
rision ; when one sentence of Scripture will more afflict you 
than an army of forty thousand men ; I say, brethren, if God 
should send you such a trial, think it not strange. A foreigner 
coming to this country thinks everything strange, money, home- 
life, business, politics ; and because they are strange he is un- 
comfortable, and weeps for home. Ye are strangers and pil- 
grims. This is not your rest ; your citizenship is in heaven, 
from whence ye look for the Savior. 

Although storms have been attacking the earth for centuries, 
and have been great blessings, yet they create fear. We see 
the gathering clouds ; the dense, black masses of vapor march- 
ing slowly and grandly ; we see the lightning flash, and hear the 
distant thunder ; the wind rocks the forest, the heavy drops fall 
like an advance herald preparing the way for an army, and then 
we close our shutters, and some creep into the darkest room of 
the house until it is all over; and when over, we find that it has 
brought freshness and song and beauty and bread and business. 
We thank our Father for the storm we dreaded. 

Have you ever noticed the sun at the close of a cloudless day? 
He sinks in a chariot of glory too bright to behold, but he 
leaves no beauty in his train. But the day that has been 
marked by storms comes to a close, and the sun sinks to his 
rest. In his dying light he illuminates the clouds and makes 
the sky gorgeous and grand. So is a life without trials. It 
leaves behind nothing to admire or love. So is not a life of sor- 



i6o Lecture XI. 

row. It leaves a life to love, to admire, to glorify, to inspire 
with song; to which we rear monuments, suggesting by their 
whiteness the purity that struggled with evil ; by their direction, 
whither they have gone ; and by our loving memories, the spirit 
that moved them. Out of Bunyan's trials from without and 
from within, came upon the world those conceptions of the way 
of righteousness which it has learned to love. 

I must tell you that in this valley he did not know his own 
voice. The powers of hell breathed worldly thoughts and sug- 
gestions to his soul, with such skill that he attributed them to 
himself. The things he would not, he did. I must also tell you 
that here his sword was unadapted to the conflict. He was 
obliged to sheathe it and take to the weapon of All Prayer. 
By this alone he succeeded. 

There are times when we get no comfort from the Word. 
God wants us to come to Himself. Did you ever think that the 
Scriptures may and do keep souls from the highest spiritual 
communion? What would you think of communion of souls 
which always has to be carried on by letters ? This is sweet 
when nothing else can be. But it is not comparable to those 
moments when with loved ones the communion is personal and 
complete. Brethren, there is a communion with God, with not 
even a Bible between either to help or to hinder. And oh ! the 
bliss, and oh ! the profit of such moments. 

" Lord, what a change within us one short hour 

Spent in thy presence will avail to make! 

Wh;it heavy burdens from our bosoms take! 
What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower! 
We kneel, and all around us seem to lower; 

We rise, and all the distant and the near, 

Stand forth in sunny outline, brave and clear; 
We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power! 

Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, 

Or others — that we are not always strong, 
That we are ever overborne with care. 

That we should ever weak or heartless be. 
Anxious or troubled — when with us in prayer. 

And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee?" 



Conflicts. i6i 

Brethren, in sunshine or in storm — 
" Pray without ceasing." 

There are other matters of which I would wilHngly speak. 
Of the mouth of hell ; of the foul fiends who imitated his voice, 
and distressed him with the thought that he had blasphemed his 
Maker because he was tempted to do so in a subtle and powerful 
manner ; of the comfort he felt in finding a man ahead of him 
in the valley singing on his way ; of the daylight which broke 
upon him, and his discerning that though the first part of the valley 
was dangerous, yet this second part was even more so ; and of 
the two giants, Pope and Pagan, who sat in a caveat the end of 
this doleful journey. 

Not without deep meaning are they here, and therefore I 
must spend a few moments upon them. 

Paganism is the religion of the creature without revelation. 
It is as sensual, as selfish, as cruel, as vain, as human nature 
Higher it cannot go. Vice is thought virtue. Charity, sympa- 
thy, gentleness, meekness, and all moral duties are ignored, and 
treachery, deceit, and guilt are practiced ; with pilgrimages, 
sacrifices, priests, temples, superadded to expiate guilt and make 
up for the lack of virtue. 

Giant Pope represents that powerful system of iniquity called 
"The Church," which held the world in darkness for centuries, 
and which is now the declared foe of mental and moral freedom. 
It is Paganism, under the name and with some of the forms 
of Christianity. It lowers Christ to man, instead of lifting man 
to Christ. 

Both have persecuted New Testament righteousness. 

It is a noticeable fact that men who have been tried by 
temptations, and by doubts — men and women who become dis- 
couraged by their weak, fallible selves — will seek infallibility. 
Human nature likes religion better than righteousness. It 
prefers the Church to Christ ; the Fathers to Christ ; the doc- 
trines to Christ; worship to Christ; Paul even, to Christ. And 
— 21 



1 62 Lecture XI. 

it is natural that those who are tired with the conflicts that right- 
eousness imposes, should seek rest. 

My brethren, seek not rest in Paganism ; it is not there. 
Giant Pagan sits like a giant to hold you, when you emerge 
tired and weary with conflict. Seek it not in Rome ; it is not 
there. Pass both by, as did Christian. They are out of the way. 

There is One who knows all of your battles, and to your 
weary souls He says : 

"Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest." 



LECTURE XII. 



FAITHFUL. 



[SVnopsis of Chapter. — Christian having reached the end of the valleys, and 
safely escaped the giants, pursued his journey. As he did so, he saw, a little 
ahead of him, his future companion. Faithful. He called, and begged him 
to halt ; but Faithful would not do that. Christian therefore put to all 
his strength, and outran him. At this he was so much pleased, that he 
became incautious and fell. Faithful kindly helped him up. This done, 
they went on very lovingly together. They had much discourse about the 
City of Destruction, and their old neighbors, especially Pliable ; and then of 
Faithful's experiences in the Way of Righteousness. He related how he had 
met with Wanton ; with Adam the First, and his struggle to get away from 
him ; of Moses, who beat him severely ; of One who came by with holes in his 
hands and side, who bade him forbear ; of Discontent and Shame, and of his 
pleasant journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.] 



LITERARY critics have much admired the genius of Bunyan 
in introducing a new character just at this time. He has 
lately brought the original Pilgrim through such hair-breadth 
escapes — notably, his fight with Appolyon, and his struggles 
and dangers in the Valley of the Shadow of Death — that the 
mind requires that he should be speedily crowned with victory, 
or else experience relief by some new and more pleasing pic- 
ture of his career. But as there are many other features in the 
Christian life which the allegorist has need to portray, it is 
impossible to bring the story to an end at present ; and as our 
Christian does not monopolize all the experiences incident to 
Christian living, and as these experiences are not the same in 
all Christians, it becomes necessary for him to introduce another 
traveler. This he does with consummate skill. In the last 



1 ICIPKI' \11 



ili.iplri, In- 1'. lull the \>>u'c ol .i u\.u\, sinjMU;; m the \'.i11cn\ Im 
till'., \\c I'. I>ii>ii;;lu lu-tiMv- ir., (he i itmp.mion ol lluisti.m, uhiisi' 
II, uuf !■. I'.nll\lul 

riu II I i>mi',mii>n'.lui> lu'>'.in m .1 'U-iics ol icm.ii k.iblc i'\("nls. 
I'.iitlilul w .r. .ihr.ut ot I hii-.li.m \\ Iumi ( liir.li.iii i.inu- out ol 
tlu' \.ilK\, 111' '..i\\ tlu' ollui, .mil, i.illiii;; to hini, u'lHU'stril him 
tt> stop, '.o ill, it \\c iui;;ht I oiiu- lip Willi hiiu l>iit I'.uthlul s.iul, 
"No; I ,1111 upon ui\ 111*', .lUil the ,i\i'U;;i'i ot hlood is hi'hiiul 
l\U', " ll> thoui'ht luur.rll uu'..iii' -.o loiij; .is hi' w.is iu>t ;;omi; 
loiw.iiil 1 U- wouKl t.uiy loi uo oiu- llissinil m.ittcis wim'o 
hrlwi'vu hull'. ill A\\{.\ (iotl, .r. t'\ri\ in,ius shoiiKl l>f. T.ikt" 
huu loi AW r\.iinpK' I'u".'. It>i\\,\ul to tlu- ui,iik ol tlu- pii.c ol 
\ oiii lu;;h v.illiu;; I 00k not l>i'hiuil thi'i"! I'lsi'.ipt' lof thy life! 
1,11 1 \ not 111 ,ill tlu- pl.iiu ' riu' soul ihMn,nuls th\' best M\c\\ 
tuMi ' 1 >o Ui>t l>v' ,iti,iul ol lo\ iup. th\Sl'll ' 

A'. l',iithlul \\i'>i'l\ iK'vluu'il to h.ilt, i liii'.ti.in w iscK- put (Mit 
,ill 111', '.ti v'Ui'tli. ,uul pu".'.v'il l»>i\\.iul I s,»\- wise!)'. 1 lUi'.in it 
\v.»s w I'..' lot I hiisti.iu [o vlo this, hut lu' ilul it iu .1 triiipn It 
is rii>ht th.it \\v-slu>uKl t-iuul.Ur tho'.i- \\ho,iiv- hrttn .iiul wisri 

til, 111 \\v'. l>llt It '.llOuUl 1h' iloiU' 111 U>\A' W'c- sluMlKl put li>lth 

all i>ui stu-i\!;th. .u\»l kc-op oui i-yi-s open .it thr s.uiu- tiu\c-. In 
!;«-ttiu!> .ihr.iil ol l'\uthtul, hi- iu-!;lc-i-ti-vl to hci-il his ii-ot, so he 
tuu\Mi-il ,uul trll 

Mow lu.iuN ilv> thi-; I I't liiui who thuiki'th lu- st.uuK-th t.iki- 
lu'i'il K-'-t lu- I, ill W I- l\,i\i- si-i'u \ ouus; l luisti.ins sittini; in 
Huli'.n\v-ut upon thv-ii rKU-is. .iiul lu-.uil thi'in pioiunnu-r tlu- 
sonlt-uii- ol v'oiuli-iuii.itiou in h,uil kuuui,»;-v-, W i- h.ui- lu-.uil stu 
lU-uts loiuli-mu thi'it tutoi s, .luil iii^t tv-rl ,\ ipi.ihn ot v.-onsi.-ii-nv.-i- or 
lu- .\sh,»n\i-il ot thi-n ii^noi.nur Ol l.itr w t- ha\i- know i\ .1 worthy 
\uinist<-» voniU-nuioil In- sonu- ol his hiothrc-n in thi^ ministry. 
n\uvh \om\;;i-i th.in him-M-ll, .u\il t,u loss w isr or li.-.ui\cil. Ih-imuso 
ihuins'. the kitt- l\-mpi-r.uK-i- Koxw.il ho n-lusoil to put on .\ hUw 
iiM>vM\. llo h.\s boo»\ .» tc-n\pc-r.u\oi- n\.u\ all his hto. h.»s broui^ht 
up his l.mnlv on sttiit tompoi.\iuo prii\ciplos, .mil. propi-rly 
nv.unt.iininj; his »»uinhv>oil. rolnsoil to lu- iliotatovl to b\- thoso \vhi> 
h,ul l>ooi\ sober .so.uoo .< wook. riiu\ ht^ h.\s h.iil to U-.ivo his 



I"\\i riiini . 



i6q 



(hmili in coiiscciiicmc, .iiul now wluic .uc his .u ciisci s i' Like 
I hristi.in, tliry \'iiiii|.;l(>i ioiisly smiled; like him, the)' sh.iin< liilh' 
fflk 

111 Ihis iil\', men h.i\c kitcl\' coiKlciniicd ihc ( hiinhcs .uul 
cler^N' liii hcint; ^;l^ shuv in the t(iii|K'r,nuc work (.iHlionvh in 
tliis instamH" the coinpkiint was iiiincit'ssai)' and niijnst), l)iil 
whrii' arc the aicnscis? Thi'y th()Uj.dit thtiusclvt's ahead, and 
ate lallen. Ilie ('liiiiihes still stand, howevei, and llu (lei;;)' 
are still |)reac hinj_; tlu- ^hnions (i()S|)el of the ^racc ol Cjod, I))' 
which alone a drunkard, hkc an\' <»th<'i sinner, can be saved. 

\\\\\ I'ail hliil ( anie np to hel|) liiin. 

' ' Im ct hi 111, it any man ix- overtaken in a laiilt, \<- w Iik h are 
si>iiiliial I'cstore siu h an one in the spiiit ol meekness, consider- 
in;^ thyself, li'st thon also he tempted." In this spirit did the 
one riltMim help the other. I .et lis not ;',l<>i>' in another's I'all, 

l)ilt let II'. lathei !doi\' that we ic.toie eriin;; Itietllieil Ihis is 

the history ol theii meetint;. 

The (hiistiaii ( liiirch, taken as a whole, has lallen into an 
error whii h, in m\' luimMe o|)inioii, hinders it', iiselnliu-ss. 
Thi'; p.ii t i( iil.ii eiioi is the .itteinpl to iii.ike all ( hristians alike. 
We di-sire to m.dsc all .dike in doc trine, worship .md experience. 
I believe in the unity of the (lninh, but I <lo not believe in the 
uniformity of faith, woi'.liip oi expeiieiice. I believe in one 
.Spirit, and in .1 diversit)' ol oper.itioiis. I believe in one I'aith, 
one Lord, one H.iptism ; bnt I also belii-ve in a vaiie|\' ol di.i i 
pies. (iive me the doctrines of the I'atherllood ol (lod, the 
person, lili-, and death of )i-sns ( hi isl, Mis .Son; t he eiilijditen- 
meiit .111(1 streii>;th ol the I loly (ihost; h)veto(iod. '.ell, .md 
man; and laith in the ^.o^l^s immortality,- .iinl I (.111 li.ive 
lellow'ship, holy and deli!_;hlliil, with .iii)' m.m, .md llimk iiol ol 
dilfercnce.s or minor |)oints. Leonardo da Vinci'.s putmeol the 
Last .Snpper onj^dit to be stndied b\' ( 'hristi:in'; ; it oim'IiI to 
be the frontispiece ol ,ill our < liiiu h iii.imi.ds. In it t liei e .11 e t vvelve 
dillennt men, eai h with .1 dillereiit expression on his lace, each 
in an attitiidi- pciiiliar to himself, revealing that they are as 
distinct and different in soul as in body, and yet all of them 



1 66 Lecture XII. 



disciples, and even apostles, chosen by the Master, who knew 
their several idiosyncracies, and who deliberately selected them 
for His work, notwithstanding. Man cannot tolerate his fellow- 
disciples. Lord ! give us more of Thy mind. 

Good men and women are to-day grieving that they have not 
had the same religious history as others, and infer that they are 
not Christians because they have not. By the aid of this para- 
ble, I shall try to disabuse your minds of this folly. Experience 
is very much a matter of physical temperament, mental bias, 
local circumstance, and church connection. One star differeth 
from another in glory. Peter had visions. Paul was caught up 
into the third heaven. John leaned on the bosom of his Lord ; 
afterwards fell at His feet as dead, and saw the innumerable 
multitude before the throne of God. But a sword pierced the 
heart of the mother of the Lord ; James received his baptism 
of fire; walked in the way of righteousness, and ended his life 
without manifesting any extraordinary emotion. 

But before we show wherein these Pilgrims differed, it is 
necessary to shew wherein they were the same. There are some 
things wherein all are alike. These are the things which accom- 
pany salvation. 

They were alike in that they both left the City of Destruction. 

Christian started first, and Faithful soon followed his example. 
He left that city with the same motives, reasons and purposes. 
It had been their home from their birth. In it were their prop- 
erty and friends. Here they had been held by society and 
pleasure. All Christians are alike in that they have left this 
world. They are in it, but not of it. Leaving the world means 
leaving a life of sin. It does not mean having nothing to 
do with its commercial, domestic, or political affairs. A man 
who leaves the world, in the Christian sense, is the better poli- 
tician, merchant, husband, and parent. He renders to Cte.sar 
the things that are Caesar's, and is different from the rest of men 
in that he also renders to God the things that are God's. 

They were alike in seeking to reach the Celestial City. 



Faithful. 167 

To reach eternal safety from a place of threatened ruin, was 
their mutual purpose. For this each left all he had, and 
started alone. Their journey had a definite end. It was clear 
and distinct to their minds. So is it with all Christians. We 
live not for the present, but future good. For we know that if 
the earthly house of our tabernacle were dissolved, we have a 
building of God — a house not made with hands — eternal in the 
heavens. We look for a city which hath a foundation, whose 
builder and maker is God, for here we have no continuing city, 
but we seek that which is to come. It is of no importance 
where you find a Christian ; of what denomination, color, age — 
he is living for an inheritance among the saints in light. How 
different it is with others. After they have lived for this world, 
enjoyed its pleasures and honors, at the end of life are bankrupt, 
with nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. They have 
lived to a world that has promised all things, but has naught 
that it can pay. 

They were alike in seeking the Celestial City in the same way. 

Both entered the Way of Righteousness through the Wicket 
Gate. So do all Christians. There are some, however, who are 
seeking the Celestial City without reference to Christ or right- 
eousness. They expect to reach heaven by professing religion 
and joining a church. Religion is not righteousness. A 
church is not Christ. Some religions are foolish, some unscrip- 
tural, and others wicked. But the Christian seeks to reach 
heaven by walking in the way of God's commandments. He 
leaves his sin to Christ, and commits his life to His direction. 
Christ is made unto him righteousness. He is made the right- 
eousness of God in Him. They that keep His commandments 
shall have right to the tree of life, and shall enter through the ■ 
gates into the city. 

Perhaps it will be thought, as they were alike in so many 
particulars, that they would also be alike in all. Not so. A 
landscape, essentially the same, is changed according to the 
standing-point from which it is viewed. Its teaching is as 
various as men are. A poet will see in it the subject, and draw 



1 68 Lecture XII. 



from it inspiration for song. A painter will see colors, and 
forms, and hues, and tints, and beauty. A scientist, laws and 
forces. A farmer, toil, harvest, and riches. An adventurer, 
money. An engineer, a level for a railroad. The same man 
will find it changing with his moods. This aside. It will appear 
different in the gleaming, and in the gloaming; different again in 
the storm ; in the calm ; in the light of the sun ; in the light of 
the moon ; -in summer ; in fall ; in winter. So with Christian 
life. It is not just the same with all men. The essentials are 
the same, the incidentals various. 

We will now consider wherein they were unlike. 

Before Christian reached the Wicket Gate, he fell into the 
Slough of Despond ; was deluded by Mr. Worldlywiseman, and 
was threatened with death at the foot of the Thundering Moun- 
tain. 

But Faithful escaped the Slough, and had an easy time of it to 
the Wicket Gate. Some sinners find it easy to find Christ. To 
Bunyan's credit, be it said, he acknowledged this. When we 
consider his own sorrowful experiences, his lack of education, 
and the narrowness of his creed, this admission is remarkable. 
It would be mysterious, did we not know that Jesus Christ, 
formed in the heart, makes a man larger than all creeds and as 
expansive as all truth. 

Yet he had his trials. He met with one whose name was 
Wanton. She had a flattering tongue, bewitching looks ; she 
laid hard at him, and had like to have done him a mischief In 
other words, he is a type of the Christian who is tempted, and 
had to resist temptations to licentiousness. The mental struggles 
of Christian are not his portion. He is assailed through the 
flesh. I hardly know which are the more difficult to overcome. 
Samson, who cared not for the Philistines, lost his power, his 
eyes, his liberty, and eventually his life, through the seductions 
of Delilah. Joseph found safety only in flight. Strong men 
have been brought low by her wiles. I should say the richer 
and more generous the nature, the more liable are we to 
be tempted in this manner, and the harder is it to resist. Pity 



Faithful. 169 

it is, that she, who was made to be man's helpmeet, should have 
become the high priestess of iniquity, the one foul blot on 
Christian civilization ; that she, to whom virtue is everything, 
and who is nothing without it, should be the chief propagator of 
vice, the fatal foe of both man and woman ; that she should be a 
deep ditch wherein are buried, daily and hourly, the virtues of 
society ; that she, like a blood-thirsty animal, should never be 
satisfied, but pant continually for the life blood of the soul. 
Know ye not that the dead are in her house, that her steps take 
hold on hell, and that those who go unto her never return ? If 
she should allure and tempt thee, "Let not thine heart decline 
to her ways, go not astray in her path ; for she hath cast down 
many wounded ; yea, many strong men have been slain by her." 

At the foot of the hill called Difficulty, he met a very aged 
man named Adam the First. The old man attempted to turn 
him out of the way, by promising him an easier life. This is a 
trial that did not fall to Christian. It is a dramatic representa- 
tion of the world striving against the spirit. The temptation to 
live for carnal pleasure, the riches, follies and fashions of the 
world is generally very strong. 

There are Christians who began their new life in poverty, and 
improved their worldly circumstances as soon as they walked in 
the way of righteousness ; began to be in earnest for their 
earthly good not until then, but when prosperity came, neglected 
their spiritual concerns. Instead of putting off the old man, 
with all his deeds, they married his three daughters, the "Lust 
of the Flesh ; the Lust of the Eyes; and the Pride of Life." 
Men do not get away from the powers of this world and world- 
ly-mindedness without experiencing what Faithful did, "such a 
twitch back" that he thought the old man had taken- with him 
a part of the flesh. 

It is so hard to part with the things of the flesh ; it is very 
hard for those who have lived for the lower nature to succeed in 
living for the higher. It is hard to take up the cross daily, and 
so be Christ's disciple. But if any man will be His disciple he 
must .do this very thing. 
— 22 



I/O Lecture XII. 



In going up the hill Difficulty, Christian slept and lost his roll 
out of his bosom in the harbour, on the side of the hill. But 
at about this place Faithful looked behind him and saw one 
coming after him, swift as the wind, who, as soon as he over- 
took him, knocked him down and left him for dead. The cause 
of his assault was the secret leaning on the part of Faithful to 
Adam the First. When Faithful cried for mercy, he said, "I 
know not how to shew mercy," and with that he knocked him 
down again. 

In this way Faithful was made to know that the function of 
the law is to punish transgressors. It does not dispense mercy. 
Faithful's sin was of the heart, and not of word or deed. He 
was inclined to go with the old man, as his promises were fair, 
and for this, Moses, for that was the name of the man who 
overtook him, knocked him down. 

In one sentence Bunyan speaks volumes, and observes that 
with Moses, it is ' 'but a word and a blow. " If then it be true that 
God requires truth in the inward parts, if God searcheth the hearts, 
if He does not look as man looks, on the outward appearance, but 
on the heart ; if sin is sin in the heart as well as in words and 
deeds, then, my brethren, are we not all guilty before God ? 
There is no difference ; we have all sinned and come short of the 
glory of God. 

And a little reflection will convince you that sin is sin, whether 
in the heart or on the tongue. Powder is the same in the mag- 
azine as in the gun. Murder is only the hate of the heart carried 
into deed. Stealing is but the covetousness of the heart carried 
into action. And so I might run the gamut of all the vices. 

A holy God condemns every sin. His law declares in solemn 
tones, as it was first proclaimed from the bowers of Eden as a 
needed warning, and now echoed back by man in his wails and 
woes, the centuries downward : The soul that sinneth shall die. 

"He doubtless had made an end of me, but that One came 
by and bade him forbear," says Faithful. 

''Who was it that bade him forbear?" enquires Christian. 



Faithful, 171 

"I did not know him at first, but as he went by I perceived the 
holes in his hands and his side ; then I concluded that He was 
our Lord." 

In this inimitable manner, with one stroke of the pencil, our 
author draws the picture of our Lord and his office in saving 
the sinner. 

You remember that it was some time after Christian was con- 
demned at Sinai before he lost his burden at the cross. And 
yet so soon as he looked at the cross his burden rolled off of 
itself. But Faithful was not long condemned before he saw the 
Lord and was delivered from the blows of Moses. Please note this : 
the Lord did not deliver him from the law, but only from its 
condemnation ; so does Christ save men. He delivers from the 
curse of the broken law, but "heaven and earth shall pass away, 
but not one jot or tittle of the law shall fail." There is not one 
law for the sinner and another for the Christian. It is equally 
binding on all. 

Oh blessed, joyful news, that I have to preach. Christ is the 
end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. 
He that believeth not is condemned already, but he that believ- 
eth has the life, has passed from condemnation to life. He re- 
alizes that God is love. By faith in God's sacrifice — the Man 
with the holes in His hands and feet — he is made to know the 
tender, loving, most merciful heart of His Father, and that 
there is mercy with Him that He may be feared, and plenteous 
redemption that he may be sought unto. 

Saving power pervades nature. Cut the bark of any portion 
of a tree, and every leaf, and branch, and root, and rootlet, will 
sympathize and toil till the wound is healed and the scar hidden. 
Let any one member of the body suffer, and the other members 
will unite to produce ease. Let a member of the family be 
sick — it may be but a very young babe — and parents, and 
brothers, and sisters, will deny themselves rest and comfort till 
health is restored. Let famines come in China and India ; let 
war rage in Turkey — and the whole world will feel pain throb- 
bing through its veins, and will send to the sufferers its life 



1/2 Lecture XII. 



blood in gentle charities till the curse is removed. Let a man 
have a hundred sheep, and if he lose one, will he not leave the 
ninety and nine, and seek that which is lost? Let a planet fall, 
and every other one will grow dizzy, and involuntarily become a 
partner in its misfortune. No man, and no animal known to 
man, suffers, but what some one volunteers to be a Good Samari- 
tan in the case. And shall all nature be full of remedial power 
— shall the universe throb with sympathy — and God, who is its 
Author, be denied it? No! a thousand times no! These are 
but indications that His Spirit fills all in all. Never can that be 
thought while we have the Man "with holes in His hands and 
side" held up as He is to the world. When a sinner can see 
Him to be God's sacrifice for sin, the expression of His un- 
fathomable love to him, he becomes thoughtless of self, and is 
lost in an ocean of love. 

"Oh ! what a load of struggle and distress 

Falls off before the Cross! The feverish care, 

The wish that we were other than we are. 
The sick regrets, the yearnings numberless. 
The thought, 'this might have been,' so apt to press 

On the reluctant soul ; even past despair, 

Past sin itself, — all — all is turned to fair, 
Ay, to a scheme of ordered happiness, 

So soon as we love God, or rather know 
That God loves us ! . . . Accepting the great pledge 

Of His concern for all our wants and woes, 
We cease to tremble upon danger's edge; 

While varying troubles form and burst anew, 
Safe in a Father's arms we smile as infants do." 

You will have noticed that the views which these two men 
had of the Cross — or rather, of the Man who died there — were 
not the same. No view is saving that does not penetrate the 
outer form and reach the spirit of everlasting love. And any 
view is saving that feels the heart of God throbbing with love 
through Christ and His Cross. Touch the hem of His gar- 
ment anywhere, and we shall be made perfectly whole. There 
is a bridge in Austria on which the life and teachings of the 
Lord are to be found in bas-relief. In the early morning the 



Faithful. 173 

laborers who pass it to the field, look upon the sower sowing 
the good seed. An hour later the mechanic sees Him at the 
carpenter's bench. An hour later the merchant see the mer- 
chant selling his goodly pearls, that he may possess the pearl of 
great price. Later, as the housewife goes to market, she looks 
upon the woman putting the leaven into the meal, or sweeping 
her house in search of the lost piece of money. Shortly after, 
the nurse-girls and children see Him with infants in His arms. 
Then when the invalid passes by, he looks on One who is heal- 
ing all manner of diseases. And when a funeral procession 
moves slowly by, the mourners for a moment fix their eyes on 
Him who is raising the dead, and who declares that He is the 
Resurrection and the Life. 

What the moral effect is I do not know, but the teaching is 
that as we are all in different conditions, we need a Savior adap- 
ted to them, and that Christ is so adapted. My friend, you 
know the kind of Saviour you need, and what you ought to be 
saved from. Look to Jesus from what and where you are, to 
what He is to thee. His power is unlimited. He is able to 
save to the uttermost all that come to God by Him. 

Faithful's experience in the Valley of the Shadow of Death was 
altogether different from Christian's. He had sunshine all the 
way through. He recognized that Christ was with him in these 
lonely and dangerous places ; and the sensible presence of 
Christ turned the darkness to light, and the grief to joy. Still 
the valley was not altogether uneventful, he met with some 
who tried to turn him back. 

He met with Discontent, who told him that the valley was 
without honor, and to go on would disoblige his friends, besides 
making a fool of himself. This man made but little impression 
on him. But he had much harder work with Shame. 

Shame tried to make him ashamed of being a pilgrim. He 
objected to religion as a pitiful, low, sneaking business ; called 
a tender conscience an unmanly thing ; and said it was slavery 
for a man to watch his words and ways. He also objected that 
few of the mighty or great were found in the way ; complained 



174 Lecture XII. 

that as a rule Christians were poor, assumed that they were 
ignorant, and oh ! depth of misfortune ! knew nothing of natural 
science, and that Christians were unfashionable. He called 
vices by fine names, and expressed his opinion that it was folly 
to seek forgiveness or to make restitution for any injury that a 
man may have done his neighbor. 

The spirit of this man is with us to-day. He seeks now, as 
then, to make men ashamed of being Christians. He has great 
influence with some, and overthrows the faith of others. Now 
there are some souls (excuse the word) who are always waiting 
for the fashions. They will wear the ugliest clothing, walk in 
a crippled habit, contract disgusting vices, defy nature, and de- 
scend to positive indecency, because it is fashionable. They go 
to church and through a service (or rather let the service go 
through them) in which they have no interest, because it is 
fashionable. They contract debt, and never pay, because it is 
fashionable. They wear other people's clothing, and are, in 
short, incarnations of irredeemable promissory notes, because, 
forsooth, it is fashionable. They object to earnest. Christian 
work, and risk heaven because it is fashionable. Were ever 
poor slaves so bound ? Thank God, true Christians are not 
fashionable. Let us not be ashamed of being out of fashion. 

Others are politic. The first question they ask about any- 
thing (and they carry their habit into religion) is, "Will it pay?" 
and they tell lies, because it pays, and they demean themselves 
to ruin others, because it pays. And these are the men who try 
to make Christians ashamed of the life of righteousness. They 
would be Christians themselves if they thought it politic. 

But the chief objection to Christians is their "want of under- 
standing in all natural science. " The assumption that Christians 
are an ignorant class of men is amusing. Well, perhaps you 
have noticed that Church-members, and preachers, and professors 
in colleges, are men of very narrow foreheads, and of an inferior 
quality of brain behind them. And you will have also noticed 
— it is patent at a glance — that sceptics and infidels are other- 
wise. Their foreheads are lofty and broad, and taking a crow's 



Faithful. 175 

view of their heads, we see in a moment that they are built on 
the latest and most approved style of phrenological architecture. 
A twinkling of an eye is sufficient to convince one that they are 
superior men. They understand all the mysteries of the uni- 
verse ; if they v/ere consulted, could suggest improvements, 
although it is quite possible they cannot manage their own 
affairs a week without blundering. But we must not expect 
great men to attend to little things. Sufficient is it that they are 
scientists, for do they not read a semi-scientific paper, written 
in an atheistic vein, in bed every Sunday morning? Are they 
not sure that Christianity is antiquated, and that a new revela- 
tion is being made ? 

Sarcasm aside, it is false to say or to assume that Christians 
lack understanding in natural science. Some of the ablest 
leading scientific men of to-day (and it has been so ever since the 
revived study of the material world) are Christians. I do not know 
of a solitary instance of a Christian college, of any sect, how- 
ever small or humble, where natural science is not taught; in 
the larger colleges and universities "the chairs" are richly 
endowed. Nor do I know of a land outside of Christendom 
where natural science is taught as part of public education ; nor 
am I aware of any of the late remarkable scientific discoveries 
and inventions occurring in any but Christian lands. But for 
Christian ministers, churches, and schools, the books which 
scientists write, the lectures they give, would go begging for 
buyers and hearers. The world cannot make us ashamed of 
our scientific record. 

It is not our business to preach science. But it is scientific to 
preach the Gospel. Science cannot save men from unright- 
eousness. The Gospel alone is the power of God unto salva- 
tion ; wherefore I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
''What! ashamed of that which in the hands of a few poor 
individuals obtained more than a conquest over all the colossal 
antagonism of heathendom, whether that antagonism was royal, 
priestly, or philosophical ! Ashamed of that which sustained 
itself for more than a thousand years against the combined 
forces of barbarism and licentiousness, and in despite of doc- 



176 Lecture XII, 



trinal and ecclesiastical corruptions ! Ashamed of that which 
braved the fiercer shock, and turned into derision the vaunted 
enquiry of modern times, philosophical neology, the Anakim 
of infidelity! Ashamed of that now upheld as it is by a re- 
splendent array of learning, genius, influence, and achievement, 
and against such combatants and such artillery as are now in the 
field ! No, glorious Gospel of the blessed God, we will do thee 
no such wrong. Thy form has yet the majestic beauty of the 
skies from which it came. Thy panoply is yet effulgent as when 
first it was given thee from the armory of God. Sweeter and 
louder waxes thy voice of mercy and holiness. Every prejudice 
shall vanish from before thee, and thine enemies shall lick the 
dust. Beneath thy tread the moral wilderness shall blossom as 
the rose. Before thy glance the dark habitations of horrid 
cruelty shall disappear. P^very heart shall throb to thy charm, 
every clime shall echo to thy praise. Under thy sway all the 
families of the earth shall be blessed!" We are not ashamed, 
again we repeat, of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

From Faithful we learn the effect of backsliding upon the 
backslider. Christian learns from him of our old friend Pliable. 
When he returned home he was had greatly in derision ; he was 
rocked and despised. His neighbors said, -'Hang him! He is 
a turncoat; he was not true to his profession." God stirred up 
his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb because he 
forsook the way. 

Ye that have backslidden, what have you gained ? If you did 
but know how men despise you, what they say of you, and 
how they feel about you ! But I can tell you how they feel. 
They have no more respect for nor confidence in you than you 
have yourself. They infer that a man, untrue to God, is not 
likely to be true to them. 

From Faithful, also we learn the effeci of a Pilgrim keeping 
on. When Christian started, there was great talk. Many of 
the neighbors believed him wise and right, and one at least 
speedily followed him. Afterwards his whole household left 
that city, and sought a better. Had Christian not started, he 



Faithful. 177 

and they had been lost. Learn this solemn lesson. You 
have influence and power. You are using them to the ruin or 
to the salvation of your friends. Oh ! start this very moment, 
and may God grant wisdom to your neighbors and families to 
follow you. 

In Faithful we see the advantage of serving the Lord with 
gladness. As we read his history, we receive the impression 
that he is a very cheerful Pilgrim. He is introduced singing ; 
he had light where Christian had darkness, and escaped many of 
the afflictions of his companion. Fellow-Pilgrim, learn this 
important lesson. The clouds that hide the sun rise from the 
earth. The darkness that makes our pilgrimage gloomy and 
sorrowful comes from ourselves. Let us look away from self to 
the Master, always, and then we shall be filled with joy that is 
unspeakable, and full of glory. Serve the Lord with gladness. 
Rejoice always, and again I say rejoice, for — 

"I say to thee, do thou repeat 
To the first man thou mayest meet, 
In lane, highway, or open street — 

That he, and we, and all men, move 

Under a canopy of love, 

As broad as the blue sky above ; 

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, 
And anguish, all are sorrows vain ; 
That death itself shall not remain : 

And ere thou leave them, say thou this, 

Yet one word more : — They only miss 

The winning of that final bliss — 
—23 



ijS Lecture XII. 

Wlio will not count it true that love, 
Blessing, not cursing, rules above. 
And that in it we live and move. 

And one thing further make him know, 
That to believe these things are so. 
This firm faith never to forego — 

Despite of all which seems at strife 
With blessing, and with curses rife — 
That this is blessing, this is life." 



LECTURE XIII. 



FALSE PROFESSORS: TALKATTTE. 

[Stsopsis of Chaptkr. — The PDgriins met with a man who ^tafesBed to be 
going to the Celestial City. He tth- the son of Sayvell. and dwelt in PiatiD^ 
Bow. Hi> name was Talkative, yptwithptanding his fine tongue, whieti he 
wac always re&fiy to use, he was really a very sorry fellow. '•A saint abroad, 
and a devil at home," expressed the judgment of his neighbors oonoeming 
him. Faithful was at first much ts^ken with him. and thoagfat he would 
make an excellent Pilgrim. But by the advice of Christian, who bad beard 
of him. he engaged him in serious conversation on the power ot rdigion, 
which so exposed his hollow pretensions, that he grew angry, and declined 
their company.] 



W 



E HAVE come to that oart of the Pilorims ProCTess in 
which Bunyan introduces a number of spurious Chris- 
tians. The first one is the character of whom I am to speak 
to-night. He gives him the very appropriate name of Talka- 
tive. 

But in order to discover defects of any kind in character or in 
substance, we must first get before our minds an ideal of perfec- 
tion. There seems to be in man a sense of perfection : moral, 
intellectual, and physical. Whenever he sees anj-thing that 
pleases him, that harmonizes with all the conditions of his mind, 
he pronounces it perfect, and he could not wish an>-thing 
more should be added to it. If anjirhing more be added he 
thinks it superfluous, and the article or character will appear 
overwhelmed with imperfection. 

This idea has been introduced into theology-, and some have 
gone so far as to say that everj' man in his own heart possesses 



i8o Lecture XIII. 



an ideal Christ. And if you will notice, whenever we read the 
life of Christ and of the infinite wisdom of that life, we do not 
judge it by a written law, but by an inner sense of perfection 
which we all possess, and in which we all agree ; and here is one 
grand argument for the Divinity of our Lord Jesus. He satis- 
fies this idea of what we believe the Savior should be ; He is 
presented to us in this character simply because He is perfect, 
and, therefore, satisfactory to our souls. 

And you will notice this also — however weak a man may be, 
he may be almost idiotic, his intellect may be exceedingly low 
and his moral perceptions blunted by sin, yet that man pos- 
sesses an idea of what a Christian should be. He may not be 
able to read the Word of God to find out what he should be ; 
but here is another man, a professing Christian, and every defec- 
tion from Christian life on his part produces a sense of imper- 
fection in the mind of the former, looking upon it. However 
degraded he may be, and as I have said, however blunted his 
moral perceptions, the looker-on will detect the error. 

Several years ago, as I have been informed, a school of phy- 
sicians set themselves to work to discover what disease was, and 
they made a great many observations, but could come to no 
agreement. At last one, much wiser than the rest, said, "We 
have begun at the wrong end ; in order to understand disease, 
we must first of all understand health." They then went to 
work and made a diagnosis of health, and when they had set 
up a standard of health, it was very easy to take the next 
step, and say that every departure from this was disease. So, 
if you want to make a table of distances you will first take a 
standard of measurement; if you want to weigh anything, you 
will take the article and test it by a standard of weights. 

We learn what imperfection is through this sense of perfec- 
tion, which we all possess ; and to understand this spurious Chris- 
tian, Talkative, it is necessary first of all to determine what consti- 
tutes a true Christian. This idea is set forth clearly in the chapter 
which I have partially read to you ; to the particular paragraphs 
of which I need. not refer, but will mention the general char- 



Talkative. i8i 

acteristics, that we may have in view a standard of what a real 
Christian is. 

We should say, first, that a true Christian possesses a con- 
viction OF SIN. 

Sin is that which every Christian is dealing with. It is the 
great problem which he is trying to solve ; it is the grand 
obstacle the Christian is trying to overcome. Sin is that which 
produces in his heart a sense of weakness; sin is that which 
stands between him and his God ; sin is that which makes him 
fear he may never reach the happy and holy place ; sin is that 
which makes man shrink from death, and reel as he dreams of 
the pains of hell ; sin is the great obstruction of the Christian 
life, practically and theoretically. But a conviction of sin is a 
very different thing from the knowledge of it. We may know 
that sin exists ; we may have an intellectual apprehension that 
we and others have committed sin ; but to be convicted of it is 
another thing entirely. 

I will suppose that some one in our city, last night, went into 
a store and stole something ; all day long that somebody has 
been conscious of the fact. But he is not yet convicted ; the 
law has not touched him, though he is conscious of his act. 
Suppose, then, that to-night the sheriff goes and puts his hand 
on his shoulder and a manacle upon his wrist — that man stands 
at once convicted ; he feels the sin, and not merely knows that he 
has committed it. Knowledge comes before conviction. The 
manacle is merely the shadow of a spiritual fact; the sheriff but 
a shadow of the Divine law, which in him finds a representative 
for the time being. In his soul the culprit stands convicted the 
moment the sheriff's hand falls on him. 

Well, now, a Christian not only knows that he has sinned, 
but is convicted. He feels that the Divine law has hold of him, 
and that the Divine law is bringing him to punishment. He 
feels that he is guilty; not merely knows it — he feels it. Knowl- 
edge produces conviction, and this increased feeling in the soul 
concerning sin and the law is conviction. A man may say, 
and say from knowledge, "I am a miserable sinner;" but a man 
under conviction, when he comes to God's house, will not merely 



i8a Lecturk XUl. 



say, *'l >un .i misiMablo sinner, " hut ho will hani;- his head before 
hijjh heaxen, not during;' to look to the skies, and out of a broken 
he;\rt will er>-. ""Ctod be nierciful to me. a sinner!" 

He- not inotolx h.is .i conviction of sin. but he h.is an auuok- 

RKNCK OF n\ 

1 do not mean to s.i\ , for a moment, that the Christian 
hin^self does not commit sin. I do not believe 1 ever met 
with .1 Christiati wlu> did not ; 1 ilo not believe I ever >net 
with a Christiat\ who had attaitu\l j\KMal pertection. There are 
words in use in respect to this which are sui^-j^estive. It is 
son\etin\es said that we believe that, throujjh some pious fiction, 
we are free frv^m sin. Now, there is no such thinj^^ as a fiction 
with (.n>d., and a Christian is not a man who does not commit 
sij\ lU does commit it. As the apostle John sjij^, "If we 
sa\' we h.i\e no sin. we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in 
us." hven John Wesley preachinl the doctrine of sin in be- 
lievers. There is. however, this ditVeretice in believers and 
non-believers : the non-believer commits sin and passes it by as 
of no conscijuence. but a Christian, when he commits sin. hates 
the sii\ .\nd himself too. He mourns and cries out like D.ivid, 
•H.uo mercy on me. O (.ivxi. accan,hnj> to Thy lovin|;j kindness, 
and accordinj; to the multitude of 'Thy tender mercies blot out 
my transgressions." The man who is not a Christian, when he 
sins, determines to sin agiiin ; but a Christian, if he falls, rises 
and fij:jhts, and strives that he may not commit it aj^^xin. There 
is just this ditTerence. too. between a Christian and a Aforalist. 
or, if you like, a Tharisee: the Christian hates sin, and abhors 
sin in himself, but a Moralist, or Pharisee, hates and abhors sin 
in another. 'That is just the ditTeixM\ce between the two. The 
Christiat\ excuses and is lenient to sin in another, because he 
knows how sweet is sin, and how hard it is to fij^ht ag-ainst it ; 
but a Moralist, a man who is so prx^ud before (.nxi that he can 
cast a reprwich \ipot\ his tellow-beinj;^. hates sin in another, 
while he encounxges it in his own btxsom. 

Now, this is not the spirit of Christ. If \*ou remember, there 
was a poor woman taken in sin. and she got into the hands of a 
number of that sort of men who abhor sin in others. The\* 



'I'ai.kaiivi',. iH^ 

wcic- .ill st.mdiii;; aioiiiul her, and tli<)U;.;lil llic < (ppoil unity 
;i tjood one to put ( hiist to ;i test, lor, atx'oidiu;.; lo llu' iiccd o( 
IIk'Sc i;cMtli'iiUMi, it was their duty to takr up stoius and litcially 
poll such a woman to death; and they vvcri' <piit(' williii;.', I<i do 
it. .So they brou|.;hl llu; .Savioi" to lici, .md j^avc I Mm an insi<_;ht 
of her condition, .and then put to lliin the crucial ([ucstion, 
"What sh.dl he done with h<i i'" And ( hrisi .k knowlcd^cul 
they wore .ictiii}^ accordin;; to l.iw, hut s.iid, "lie lh.it is wilhuul 
sin amon^ you, let him cast the first stone." Ihc poor woman 
looUrd with sh.ime and despair upon the jmouikI, cNpectiu!.; to 
die; hut 1)\- .ind h)' up into the I. ice of the Lord. "VVom.m, 
wheic .ire thine accusers;*" "They .ire .ill _i;()ne." "I)i)th no 
man condenm thee?" "No. Loid." "Neither do I." Th.it 
is the spirit of Christ. A Chiisti.in .ihhors sin in himsell ; a 
Pharisee abhors it in another. A Christian is lenient to an 
other's fault, hut .i I'h.irisee is lenient to sin only in himself aixl is 
hard upon .mother. I h.il ex.imple te.iches the spirit of ( hiist. 
It is (hiistiau love, ;i livini; love .and active power in the he.irt. 
VVc; often he.ir about nu-n i;c"ttinL; ii>lit;ion; and wv. often he.ir 
men say, in i;\citenu"nt, how much they c'lijoy relis^ion. Hecanse 
.some of us have- not passed throuidi the same ex])i'rieiice th.it 
tliesc have, we arc; not to conihide th.it it is all fii'c and exciti'- 
ment, and th.it there is nothiiii.; ijenuine in it. My friends, that 
is not true; reliiMUi is a power in the he.iit, transfoi niiiiL;^ the 
life. Mow do we know? Just .is we know that wv live 
and ieel. A man feels pain, yet he c.mnot m.ike an intel 
lectual .in.ilysis of it, nor prove th.it he is in pain. I'lie next 
time you are in suffering, try to prove, by some metai)h\sical 
process that a !oL;ician would acci'pt, that you .ire in \).u\\, and 
I defy you to do it; you can only slati> the fact. An excess of 
pain in the body prodiu'es its ellecis upon the f.ice .ind upon tlu' 
form. Then, at;ain, there is excessive sorrow, not a ph) sical 
effect at all, but a mental one, yet that affects the ph\'sical beiuL; 
also, bc-cause the physic. il ;ind s])iritiial senses .ire united. ( )n 
the other iiand, there is joy in the he.iit, and it lij^hts u|) the 
features and enlivens the life. riu:n there is the power of love, 
which transforms everything; to its nature and object. Now, 



184 Lecture XIII. 



what is Christianity ? What is religion ? What is the religion 
of the Lord Jesus Christ in the soul? It is not a mere theory 
in the head, but a power in the spirit. I say, what is it? I 
shall have to repeat myself here, but I do not mind it. It is 
love. Christianity is love — love to God — love to man. 

It is necessary to distinguish this from several things. For 
instance, this love of God must be distinguished from love of 
doctrines concerning God. A man may really love Christian 
doctrine; he may love theology; he may love heterodox the- 
ology, or orthodox theology; he may have a creed which 
commends itself to his reasoning faculties, to his mind ; it is 
convincing to him and satisfying, and he may love it very much, 
and yet he may not love God. For instance, a learned man may 
love the science of theology ; he may see wonders in it, and yet 
may not love a fellow-being. All professors of theology are not 
Christians. We all may love doctrines concerning God, and 
yet not love Him. 

Then again, love of man must be distinguished from an ab- 
stract love of righteousness. There are men and women in this 
world who say that they do love righteousness so much. They 
tell us so, and it is a very good thing to love righteousness, 
but not good to love it for its own sake. There are a great 
many righteous men who are no good to the church. You 
can find no fault with them ; they never did any good and 
never will ; they are in this world just a round naught ; there 
is nothing loving about them ; nothing fruitful in them ; they 
are simply nonentities; they do no particular harm, and they 
do no particular good. Love of man does not mean love of 
abstract righteousness. I tell you I am rather afraid of men 
and women who love righteousness, when they love righteous- 
ness more than man. 

Then we must distingnish this love of man also from abstract 
humanity. It is the fashion now-a-days to write God with a little 
g, and humanity with a big H. Men love Comptism, Sociology, 
and talk incessantly of the science of humanity ; it is all hu- 
manity — over and over again, humanity. This love of abstract 
humanity has done no good in the world that I know of in 



Talkative. I(S5 

the way of ameliorating the vices and sorrows of men. I 
have yet to see a hospital built by men who love humanity ; I 
have yet to see an orphan asylum established by these professed 
lovers of humanity. Many a professor of this humanity passes 
by the beggar at his own door and fails to wipe away an or- 
phan's tear in his own city. 

We are not here to love abstract good, abstract righteousness, 
or abstract humanity. 

What, then, does love to God mean ? It means this : Love 
the man that is next you ; love the man that is here ; put it in 
scripture language, "Love your neighbor 2lS yourself." 

But some one will say, "You don't know my neighbor, sir. 
The men and women around us here in the city are exceedingly 
low, depraved, very dirty, very drunken, vicious ; I have no 
objection at all to putting a dollar in the collection for those 
poor heathen out yonder, to support one man in a million of 
such; I like that; I like the gospel to fly abroad, and hope it 
will prevail ; we take the missionary papers ; oh yes, I love the 
gospel." Who told you to love the gospel? Neither God nor 
Christ wants you to love the gospel. Christ says, if you see a 
bleeding man lying on the roadside where you pass along, bind 
up his wounds and give him what he needs, whether a brother 
or an enemy. That man is your neighbor, because he needs 
you, and God has sent you to help him. Let's away with such 
stuff as loving abstract good, abstract humanity. Love God, 
and your neighbor as yourself. 

It is this love, if you remember, which is the fulfillment of 
the law. Love fulfills the law simply because it is the spirit of 
the law. Love any one in life, and there is no wrong you can 
do to that one ; love not, and all vice may creep out of such a 
condition. 

But then, a true Christian has not merely this conviction and 
abhorrence of sin ; he does not merely possess this power of love 
in the heart, but it issues in a life of practical benevolence. 

To repeat what James wrote, "Pure religion and undefiled be- 
fore God and the Father is this : To visit the fatherless and widows 
—24 



1 86 Lecture XIII. 



in their affliction, and keep oneself unspotted from the world." 
If the description of the Judgment that our Lord has given be 
true, we may see the whole thing revealed there. The whole 
thing depends upon our practical benevolence. If in that great 
day the Lord shall say to us, "You fed the hungry man, you 
clothed that ragged child, you visited the sick and afflicted, and 
attended to the wants of the needy," He will also say, "Come 
ye blessed of my Father." 

And I think I know something about this "doing it unto 
me," for I have had friends in my house of late, and among 
many things that have come to my house, with the friends, 
were kind expressions of love ; some little books and little 
toys for my little ones ; and when those little ones took one thing 
after another and brought it to me, I felt that I knew some- 
thing of what the Savior will feel in that day when he shall 
say, "Inasmuch as ye did it to these, my little ones, ye did it 
unto me." 

The needy are God's little ones — all these men and women 
around us living in sin, and neglected, by whom ? Ah, we know 
by whom, and they are Christ's little ones. And the whole 
judgment will turn upon what we have done for them. There is 
no Christian life apart from this practical benevolence. Do not 
think you can enter heaven because you have entered the 
Church. You cannot; it is impossible. Unless you will give up 
your substance to feed the poor, and take up your cross daily 
and follow Christ, ye cannot so much as enter the kingdom of 
heaven ; ye cannot become His disciples. 

We have now before our minds, in a very brief and imperfect 
way, an ideal Christian. Let us now look at this man Talka- 
tive's mistake. 

He supposed that Christian life consisted in knowing and then 
talking of religious matters. His whole life was made up of this : 
hearing of religious things and talking of them. But we know 
great talkers are not always great doers, and this was the result 
discovered by the neighbors of this man— that although willing 
enough always to talk on the subject of religion, it was rather 
distasteful to him to enter upon its duties. 



Talkative. ^ 187 

Can a man be a talker of religious matters, and at the 
same time not be a Christian man ? We think he can be. We 
think that a man may be a theologian, and yet not a Chris- 
tian. A man may speculate upon the great doctrines of religion ; 
upon the being of God ; the immortality of the soul ; the future 
state; the trinity; the unity; the essence of God; "man's free 
will, foreknowledge absolute" — he may speculate famously on 
these things, and yet not be a good Christian. Yea, a man may 
spend twelve or thirteen dollars to get a Bagster's Bible, and 
may go round with it under his arm, saying, "See my interest 
in the subject;" he may be able to trace all the references in 
it from Genesis to Revelation ; be able to repeat chapter 
after chapter of the Holy Word by heart, and yet not be a 
Christian. Religious knowledge is not religious life. 

A man may work miracles, and not be a Christian. A man 
may be a preacher of the Gospel, and yet not be a Christian. 
Our dear Lord has said, "Many will say unto me in that day, 
Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and in thy 
name cast out devils, and done many wonderful works? And 
then will I say. Depart from me, I never knew you." Now, 
that is fearful to think about, but it is a fact. A man may be 
a theologian, and a man may work miracles, and a man may 
preach the Gospel, and yet may not be a Christian. Did not 
the apostle Paul tremble before the merely supposed fact that he 
might be in that condition, "Lest by any means, when I have 
preached to others, I myself should be a castaway?" A man is 
not a Christian because he is able to preach Christianity. It is 
ten thousand times easier to preach than to live it. It is life, 
my brethren, that will tell in the other world. 

Let us hear Paul again: "Though I speak with the tongues 
of men and angels (that is, with the eloquence of earth and even 
heaven), and have not charity (that is, love — this love to God 
and man of which I have been talking, this power in the heart, 
and this practical benevolence in the life), yet with all powers of 
speech, and without that power of love, I am become but 
sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. Then, though I have the 
gift of prophecy (of preaching), and understand all mysteries 



i88 Lecture XIII. 



(endowed with powerful intellect), and all knowledge, and 
though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and 
have not charity, I am nothing ; and though I bestow all my 
goods to feed the poor, and give my body to be burned (as a 
martyr to the truth, to the abstract truth, or to the telling of it), 
and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." Nothing! 

You sometimes see a band preparing to play, and you see 
one man tightening up a drum, pulling the strings here and 
there, and striking it with a stick. Before the band be- 
gins he will strike once or twice, just to give the time; there is 
no music in that. Then a man will take the cymbals on his 
hands and clap them together, merely to show the others that 
he is ready; but there is no music in drum and cymbals by 
themselves. But presently the band starts up, and there is a 
volume of congruent sound, a filling up of all the parts — the 
deep-toned bass, the shrill tenor, the mellow alto ; and then the 
drum gives force and vivacity, and the cymbals lend charm and 
vigor to the whole. Useless by themselves, they are delightful 
and grand when mixed with melody. So that talking by itself 
means nothing; but mixed with good works, with a pure love 
in the heart of him who speaks, and true adoration for God and 
service for his fellow-creature, what he says puts power and vigor 
and life into the music he makes in his journey to the skies. 

To illustrate this a little further: Cannot a sick man lecture 
on health? Oh! yes; he may be a thorough invalid, and yet 
lecture well and profitably on that subject. I notice a man can 
talk about riches, and at the same time be exceedingly poor ; he 
can talk about gold, and have none ; he may talk about econom)% 
and yet not practice it in his own household. A man may talk 
about things he does not possess. So a man may talk about re- 
ligion, and yet not have one spark of it in his soul. I believe 
it is better to have the gold than to talk about it. Is it not? I 
do n9t know myself, but I think it is. It is very much better to 
have health than to lecture about it ; much better to be a practi- 
cal economist than merely theoretical upon the subject ; and it 
is much better to have the love of God in our souls than to 
write volumes or preach sermons upon it — much better to serve 



Talkative. ^ 1 89 

man in his need than to have beautiful theories concerning" 
humanity, the truth of which we can never test. 

A ver)- interesting question arises here. Who makes such 
men. and how are such men as Talkative produced ? Let me 
come to the point at once : I say preachers help to make such 
men as Talkative, and they do it in this way, by preaching an 
impracticable religion. We preach so many things that men 
cannot do. We preach about the m)'steries of the Gospel, and 
so much upon purely abstract questions. Do, do, do ! So it is 
all tile way through the New Testament. I preach good works. 
I sa)' the New Testament insists upon good works. You can- 
not get to heaven without good works. It is folly to try; you 
cannot, my friends. "Christ has purified us unto Himself that 
we might be a peculiar people, zealous of good works," Paul 
wrote to Titus. "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, 
and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for 
instruction in the way of righteousness, that the man of God 
ma)' be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works," he 
wrote to Timothy. You cannot get away from them — good 
works. I preach them. I would that I could produce more of 
them. But here is the mistake : we preach upon remote, ab- 
stract questions, instead of insisting upon the practical power of 
Christianity. 

Let us see how it was in the primitive Church. The apostles 
preached ; those who had money gave to those who had 
nothing, and the converts had all things in common. The 
apostles went about, not merely preaching of the mysteries 
of the kingdom of God, but healing all manner of diseases, 
feeding the hungry, giving feet to the lame, raising the dead, 
and being powerful in all sorts of good works. 

But then, too, it is not altogether the preacher's fault. Men 
become "talkative" by often resisting the truth. You are 
here to-night, my dear friend ; you have been here several Sab- 
bath evenings since it has been my pleasure to preach these 
sermons upon the Pilgrim's Progress. You have had warm 
feelings, which, if followed out faithfully, would have led to 
your profession of the Lord Jesus Christ. Have you not had 



ic)0 Lecture XIII. 



your auty so impressed on yovw niiiul that }'Ou felt it was the 
right thiiii;- to go and seek out some in need, to help them ? I 
assume that you have felt thus, yet you have not confessed 
Christ, you have not rendered that human aid which you felt it 
your dut\- to give, and wiiat is the result ? .Vctive habits de- 
\-elop character ; passive impressions harden the heart, and \-ou 
are here to-night harder than \'ou were at the beginning of these 
lectures, less inclined to truth, less inclined to good works , and 
more insensible than you were when I began to preach these 
discourses. 

To illustrate: The pln-sician goes about among the sick e\er)- 
da\- and sees the aspect of suffering until he grows hardened. 
The undertaker, at a fvuieral, knows he should look solemn, 
when, perhaps, he does not feel so, and finds it requires some 
etiort to appear mournful ; but give him a j'ear's practice 
and training in his duties, and you will find him alwa\-s ready 
for a funeral. His life becomes hardened to his calling. Even 
philanthropists; 1 mean Hoard-of-Director Philanthropists, may 
become hardened to the facts the\- deal with, until what they 
began from a spirit of love, is carried on in a hard sense of cold 
dut\-. Thus \ou see the effect oi passi\e impressions. It is 
onl\- .m actixe life that can save us; a passive life must necessa- 
ril\- harden us, and here we come to the philosophy of that 
shrewd sayhig, "gospel-hardened sinners." 

Howexer. these hardened souls, the calloused subjects of pas- 
sive impressions, make fine critics. Why, we can all tell how 
a Christian ought to live ; we can all criticise Christians ; and we 
can all criticise a sermon. \\"e ma\- not be able to preach one, 
but we can criticise one. That is frequently done. 

We might illustrate this topic in many ways ; but enough. 

The talkative Christian neglects tiie culture of his soul ; neg- 
lects to work the truth into himself by habit. Let us see how 
the Master would save us from this talkative condition of reli- 
gion. He sa>s if an)' man would know the doctrine let him do 
the will. Christianity is a practical thing; a life of practical 
benevolence. It must be wrought into the soul. We must go 
about doing good. If we would.be Christ-like, we must follow 



Talkative. ^ 191 

the Master. liut this Talkative neglects the culture of his soul. 
For instance, he is quite willing to talk of the mysteric\s and his- 
tories and the doctrines of religion, and things that have per- 
plexed him ; but he does it for the sake of discussion, and not 
for the sake of his soul. That is a mistake. We must use 
spiritual things as we do food for the body, not simply to enjoy, 
but to impart strength. We buy and read books and attend 
lectures for the cultivation of the intellect, but not for that alone, 
for the object of that cultivation is that we may apply it. So 
with our aesthetic nature; we look upon things of beauty and 
bring to our homes bits of music and sweet song; and gaze 
upon lovely pictures and landscapes to cultivate the sense and 
refine and heighten the tone of being ; and so in spiritual things. 
It is a sense of the good we are to get which brings us to church 
to sing hymns and bow our heads in prayer, relate experiences 
and read the Bible; we wish to cultivate ourselves, but the thing 
must not stop here. The Christian does not live to himself; 
no man does ; nor does he die to himself, let him try as he may. 
The Christian cultivates his soul that he may save other souls. 
You cultivate your garden and your farm that they may pro- 
duce — not for the mere .sake of the cultivation, that would be 
labor in vain ; and when we cultivate and nothing grows, we 
feel that our time is lost. You are looking for results. So it is 
with the Christian ; he lives for Christ, and he dies to win eter- 
nal life. 

The doctrine I have been preaching is this : You cannot be 
saved unless you save others. Without attempting to save 
others, you are merely like Talkative. 



LECTURE XIV. 



VANITY FAIR. 



[Synopsis of Chapter. — When the Pilorinis had rid themselves of Talkative, 
and before they entered the town of Vanity, where a jtrreat fair was kept all 
the year round. Evangelist met them and <ri^ve them ofood and timclj' coun- 
sel. The way to the Celestial City lay rif^lit thronj>h this fair. As the 
Pilf^rims entered it the people were uuicii excited on account of their 
demeanor, speech, and clotliing. They thon<>:ht them fools, outlandish and 
crazy. They then o^rew angry, because Christian and Faithful thought 
lightly of the goods they had for sale. When asked what they would buy, 
these men replied, '-We buy the trutli." 'i'his produced a riot. Then they 
made prisoners of the Pilgrims, charged them with being the cause of the 
riot, and had them before Lord Hategood. who, with a jury and witnesses 
like-minded with himself, sentenced Faithful to death. After much cruelty, 
they burned him to ashes at the stake. As Faithful died, the Dreamer saw, 
standing behind the multitude, a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 
him. Thej'^ took him through the clouds, the nearest way to the Celestial 
Gate.] 



THIS chapter commences with aiiother iUustration of the doc- 
trhie on which 1 have so frequcnth' insisted, that God pre- 
pares men beforehand for the trials on which they are to enter ; 
and that it is Christian wisdom not to wait until we have sinned 
before we seek God, but to seek Him before we sin. Preven- 
tion is better than cure. As I have already said, there is some- 
thing in the Christian's life very much better than being- forgiven, 
and that is being approved of God. There is a passage in 
Scripture which teaches us to be approved of God, but we are 
apt to forget the truth there taught, and make prayer and faith 
the all-sufficient offices of Christian duty, to the neglect of right 



Vanity Fair. • 193 

conduct ; we may thus even make God the minister of sin. 
Some of us have frequently sinned much, that grace might 
abound. Too many of us fall into this error. 

Bunyan now brings his Pilgrims into Vanity Fair; but before 
they enter and are brought in contact with its hostility and perse- 
cution, they meet their good friend Evangelist, who gives them 
much good instruction ; tells them to be faithful unto death, 
and informs them of the manner in which they must pass 
through this fair, if they would please God and benefit men. 
This, you see, is the preparation before the trial comes, and 
teaches us the method of Divine grace, for God gives His grace 
prospectively — God is always beforehand. He is able not only 
to lift us up, but to make us stand. He puts on us the whole 
armor, that we may stand in the evil day, and having done all, 
to stand. 

Vanity Fair is said by critics to be one of the finest pictures 
in the whole book. It is a representation of the fleshly side of 
this world. If you like, an incarnation of the carnality abound- 
ing in the world, by which Christians are all more or less 
tempted. I do not mean to say, nor will I teach, that this is a 
fair picture of the entire world in which we dwell, but it is a 
true picture of the carnal side of it. 

It is a fine picture, and in order that you may understand it, 
it is necessary that I should give you a description of what Bun- 
yan had in his mind when he drew the picture. 

Practically you know nothing of what he refers to. You may 
know something from reading, but not from actual experience, 
of the model in Bunyan's mind of his Vanity P'air. You have 
your fairs in this country, but generally they are associated with 
churches. I would not say that they were ever connected with 
anything like gambling, thimble-rigging, and grab-bags, or, in- 
deed, anything of that kind; such things would be condemned 
in saloons, and are therefore not tolerated in churches, and so 
let us say nothing more about the matter. 

But you have in this country some very good honest fairs in 
connection with the churches, for the honest, cheap sale of fancy 
—25 



194 Lecture XI V. 



articles, which bring in considerable revenue. All those things 
are pleasant enough to see. You have also your agricultural 
fairs — by the way, an important means of developing agricultu- 
ral prosperity. Such fairs are, indeed, very healthful in their 
present condition, promotive of the spirit of agriculture, in 
which this country must abound, and in producing a spirit of 
emulation, move men to do their best. 

But centuries and centuries ago, when civilization was not 
quite so extensive as now — in its very dawn — churches were 
built and dedicated to some patron saint, who took (or rather, 
was said to take) the church and the community in which it 
stood under his or her particular control and care. Once a year 
feasts were held in those communities in honor of their respec- 
tive saints. In those days, merchants, traveling in caravans, 
would go the round of these festivals, and offer for sale articles 
of luxury or necessity, enough to supply the people for a year. 
The merchants took advantage of the large concourse of people 
gathered on such occasions, and of the chance of their having 
accumulated means to supply their wants at the annual fair. 
But as trade developed and commerce extended, stores, or shops, 
as they are called in the old country, were established in every 
village, town, and city, and so the necessity for itinerant mer- 
chants passed away. Like many others, the institution has 
survived the occasion which gave it birth, and the feasts or fairs 
are kept up to this day. They have, however, degenerated 
from fairs for trade into mere fairs for pleasure ; and the descrip- 
tion which Bunyan here gives of the old English fair, as it now 
exists, is actually true. As Bunyan says, there are a number 
of rows of booths at this fair for the sale of fancy goods. You 
will also see booths adorned with glittering toys, not merely to 
tempt the passer-by, but enable the proprietor to get possession 
of pennies by some sort of trick or artifice. There is very 
little of honest value offered at such places. As you pass along, 
you will see, on this side, a quack doctor, who is improving his 
opportunity to abuse the physicians of the neighborhood, and who 
offers instead, his own prescription and nostrums as a sure cure 
for all diseases. On that side is a shooting-gallery. Here is 



Vanity Fair. 195 

^ p 

some tawdry show, and over there you hear someone singing a 
bawdy song. At night all is glitter, but the silver is nothing 
but tin, and the glittering gold nothing but tinsel. It is, in fact, 
all vanity, and nothing but vanity. The whole stock at these 
fairs is often absolutely worthless, and yet they continue. They 
have become a disastrous source of moral corruption, besides 
carrying away from the neighborhood where they are held the 
vainly spent earnings of the people. Acts of Parliament are con- 
tinually being passed to curtail these institutions. Many such 
fairs have become illegal in the larger towns and cities of Great 
Britain. In many places, however, they are still kept up, in 
order to promote, as is said, the old English spirit; and many a 
young man, and many a young woman, date their ruin from 
attending these fairs. If you compare the articles of merchan- 
dise there, they are mostly lighter than vanity; and so Bunyan 
takes this institution as a model for his picture of the carnal 
world. These fairs in England have become so offensive that, 
in some places, the whole people are crying out against them. 
Their allurements are a type of the perils which beset the path 
of a Christian. 

We are in the world, my brethren, but not of it, and we are 
continually in danger of being overpowered and ruined by the 
world. But you may say, is not this strange that we should be 
in peril from the very circumstances of our existence ? Never- 
theless, it is so. There is a ship about to cross the ocean. She 
starts from the shore beset with dangers from the very tide on 
which she expects to be borne into her destined haven ; the 
winds on which she depends to make her voyage may be the 
means of her destruction. Men cannot control the winds or the 
waves, but with skill and good seamanship they can control the 
ship in the midst of them. Soul and body are intricately con- 
nected. There are dangers to the soul arising from the appetites 
which God has planted in our bodies for their benefit. Nay, 
by the necessities of our existence here, our souls may be lost. 
As a ship gains her harbor, often with sails rent, masts swept 
away, helm gone, and pilot lost, so may a Christian, after the 



196 Lecture XIV. 



buffetings of life, enters heaven in discouragement and distress, 
and on the very verge of despair. 

This picture of Banyan's is a fruitful theme for study. I lay 
it down as a principle, that nothing that is essentially of this 
world can possibly satisfy the craving of the soul of man. For 
instance, you can epitomize it all into what is called gold. If 
you have money you can have much of this world ; you can 
buy friends as well as houses and lands ; you can draw to your- 
self pleasures from all quarters. 

Taking money, then, as the very best thing this world can pro- 
duce, let us now see how very unsatisfactory it is, and how 
worthless to the human soul. Mind you, I do not mean to say 
that you should not get all the money you can honestly, but 
you should possess your money, and not let your money possess 
you. Here is all the difference in the world. One man will 
have gold as he has the fever — that is, it will have him ; and the 
cure in this case often is severe. He must use his gold or it will 
abuse him. 

How vain is money ! Yet we are all trying to get it — all try- 
ing to save a little. I will suppose you are in need of some one 
to occupy a place of important trust ; a person is recommended 
to you. in whose favor it is first remarked that he is very rich, 
and endowed with all the worldly advantages of culture and pol- 
ish which riches can bestow. Suppose even that his connections, 
too, are rich, and hold high social and civil position in conse- 
quence of their wealth ; and when it is all told as a recommen- 
dation to your choice, what then ? Why, you ask, but what of 
his moral character? "O well," perhaps is the reply, "of that 
there is less to say — young men, you know, will be young men." 
But that, you answer, is not satisfactory. I want a man that I 
can trust in matters very important. You say he is very rich ; 
but that is nothing at all. I want a good character. And when 
you have found a flaw in the character of the applicant, all the 
gold of a mine would not fit him for your purpose. So here is 
an illustration of the vanity of gold ; there is a standard which 
it can never reach. 



Vanity Fair. 197 

Well, suppose a man comes to your office to-morrow, to bor- 
row money; what do you enquire? And by the by, I heard a 
gentleman say, not many weeks ago, that when a person of a 
particular nationality (I am sorry that nationality was not my 
own) came to him to borrow, he never asked a question as to his 
security — the nationality made everything all right. But sup- 
pose, again, that a man is reputed to be very rich, while at the 
same time you know that he is immoral and leads a life that 
ought to be a shame to any man — it may not, indeed, be pub- 
licly known, but the fact has been privately wafted to your 
ears — do you not take that fact into consideration before trusting 
money in his hands ? Do you not require the name and char- 
acter of honesty before you are satisfied ? Here, then, is still 
further illustration that gold is not equal to character. It is not. 

Then think how many men who have been rich grow suddenly 
poor. Then, again, how many are poor in the midst of their 
riches. Often a man and wife, after twenty years of increasing 
wealth, sit down and look back over the course, not merely of 
increasing wealth, but of increasing trials, until they sigh for 
that sweet early time when their life began together in a cottage. 
Their lofty mansion has not brought them happiness, but only 
increasing care ; and it is a fact, as a general rule, the more gold 
a man has, the less is he satisfied, for the truth is, God never 
intended the human soul to be fed on anything so perishable. 
He never intended that its mighty craving should be satisfied 
with dust. And when a man is stripped of all the things for 
which he has toiled his life long, and stands at last a bankrupt 
before his God and his fellow-man — when character is gone, and 
gold is gone — which does he feel the loss of more? Which do 
his friends think the more worthy? In the loss of character, 
there was a loss of that which gold could never buy ; his condi- 
tion is pitiable, not for the loss of his gold, but because he has 
lost his righteousness, and stands worse than poor before heaven 
and earth. 

I say, if we compare gold with character, it is utterly worthless; 
it is vanity of vanity. When men come to die, what do they 
pride themselves in ? That they leave the world reputed rich 



198 Lecture XIV. 



men ? No ; they know they have to leave all that behind them. 
Thev cannot carry riches with them ; gold is valueless in the 
regions whither they go. But if they have laid up treasures 
in heaven, then they are rich toward God and toward the com- 
ing kingdom. 

Then how different is the standard of value in Vanity Fair 
from that of sober reason. In the fair you will pay for a mere 
tinsel imitation of a good article more than you would have to 
pay at an honest shop for the honest gold. Rubbish there will 
cost you more than the value of a good thing in fair trade. The 
day after the fair every little boy blows a trumpet, or snaps a 
flimsy whip, or sports a gilded watch-chain; but in a day or two 
the trumpets are broken, whips untwisted, and the gilded watch- 
chains rusted and thrown away. Everybody is disgusted ; 
worthless baubles have cost more than articles of value would 
have done at an ordinary jeweller's, for the articles thus bought 
would have had some intrinsic worth and lasting value, whereas 
the money expended on the trifles of the fair was utterly thrown 
away. So with men and women who prefer this world, and this 
world's pleasures, and this world's goods, to those of eternity. 
We buy baubles for a passing pleasure, and then throw the toys 
away. Ah, if we could get the dead to speak, they would tell 
us where true value lies ; they would tell us that the things of 
this world are vain compared with those of the higher and better 
world. These trifles we have but for a moment; but the things 
that are not seen endure forever. 

Let us view for a moment the conduct of these pilgrims at 
this fair. They excited a good deal of astonishment as they 
passed along, for they were altogether different from the crowd. 
For instance, there was a great deal of difference in their dress, 
and in their language, too, for it is said that these men spoke the 
language of Canaan. They were evidently foreigners and stran- 
gers — pilgrims, just as all Christians in this world really are. 

But some one may say, I do not notice that there is so very 
much difference between church-members and the world. Well, 
my dear friends, I do not suppose you do. There are many 
things to be considered at this point. In the first place, church- 



Vanity Fair. - 199 

members are not necessarily Christians ; yet there are some 
Christians in this world of ours, and in our churches, too, and we 
cannot help but know them. You know them — do you not? — 
the moment you see them. They may not make a very loud 
noise. They may not be very conspicuous in any sense. Yet 
you see the distinction which Bunyan expresses in this picture, 
and which may be characterized by the much-used theological 
phrase, "In the world, but not of it." These men were in the 
fair, but they were not of the fair. But how can a man be in 
the world, and not of it? 

I remember, about five years ago, when I landed at Baltimore, 
it was on a Sunday morning, and, like a good Christian, I went 
to church on Sunday morning. I had been taught to go to church 
on Sunday morning. But I find Christians here do not go to 
church on Sunday morning; they are so tired. But that aside. 
I came, a foreigner, to this land. True, I looked like an Ameri- 
can, and spoke the English language almost as well as an 
American, and one might think there could be nothing remark- 
able about such a foreigner as myself on the wharf or in the city of 
Baltimore. But I remember the first thing I tried to do was to 
pass a piece of English money, and I brought out a sovereign 
and gave it to a man, who handed me the change in what was, 
at that time, to me, most disgusting — a number of dirty bills. 
My shining, ringing gold, with the head of the queen on it, 
reduced to that ! I felt my nationality rise against it, and de- 
manded something better, but could not get it. The spirit 
of John Bull was in me strong ; I did not like the case at all. 
Then, I suppose, there was something so peculiar about my 
dress, though, indeed, I dressed much as I do now. But I got 
into a street-car, where I knew nothing about the regulations ; 
knew nothing about making change ; knew nothing about the 
way Americans do things ; how they get into cars, or how they 
get out of them. I know there must have been something 
peculiar about me, for a lady (I believe that is the word to use) 
burst out laughing when she saw my awkwardness. The driver 
of the car spoke English, but I could not understand him. I 
could not understand the preacher whom I heard, though he 



200 LlXTURE XIV. 



spoke English just as I claimed to do ; I could not understand 
him. The idioms, the allusions, the illustrations, were all per- 
fectly foreign to me. Of the American people I met that day, 
none of their habits were familiar. I came further West, and 
sat down at a table ; but I did not know when or how to begin, 
for everything was done so differently from my training. For a long 
time I could not count your money ; I may have been many times 
duped, I do not know. For a long time I could not "catch the 
hang" of any of your ways. I made myself conspicuous fre- 
quently, no doubt, being a stranger. Everybody seemed 
staring, everybody laughing, for, you see, I was in this country, 
but not of it — simply a foreigner and a pilgrim. Absolutely 
there was not very much difference in the mere appearance, but in 
education of thought and feeling the difference was radical. I 
remember getting on the cars at Columbus, where a man 
remarked to me, "Sir, this republican form of government is the 
best on earth." "No, sir," said I, promptly; "Queen Victoria 
is the best monarch, and a monarchy the best form of govern- 
ment. " Well, I do not think so now, but if I had had my way 
then, I think I should have brought over the Prince of Wales, 
and made him king of the land. 

Let me explain further what it is to be in the world, and yet 
not of it The man who loves righteousness — the righteousness 
of Jesus Christ — differs from a man who is righteous, only ac- 
cording to the law of this world, by the whole principle of love. 
The former, when reviled, reviles not again. He abides by the 
rule, that "What ye would men should do to you, do ye even so 
to them." Now, that is a height to which the world, can never 
rise. The highest righteousness that the law of this world can 
attain to is this: exact from every man what he owes you, and 
whoever injures you, injure him again. Everything above that 
is Divine. Then there is a difference in the language of the 
Christian from that of the man of the world, just as there is 
between the language of a poet and a historian ; between the 
language of a philosopher and of an ignoramus. The ignoramus 
cannot understand the philosopher. The difference is vast be- 
tween the Christian and the worldly man. For instance, here is 



Vanity Fair. ' 201 

a man who cannot sing — cannot sing a note — and he goes to the 
piano, strikes the keys, after studying the score before him ; 
strikes one and then another note, mechanically ; by calculation 
he hits each note and chord ; there is no music in his playing. 
But here is another, who, after having glanced at the same score 
a moment, will at once give natural expression to what is written, 
and produce the most exquisite music. And just like the differ- 
ence between the mechanical performer and the true musician, 
is that between the worldly man and the Christian. The Chris- 
tian makes music on his way to the skies. He draws his minstrelsy 
from heaven, which lifts his soul up into a sphere of peace as he 
passes through a troubled and antagonistic world. There is the 
difference. The man of this world says, "Let me live for this 
world alone ; let me get all the pleasure I can." The young 
man goes out in the world, crying, "I will get all the pleasures 
I can ; I will get all the riches I can, and what I get I will keep. " 
But what says the young Christian? "I will live above these 
pleasures, and improve my mind and heart. Instead of seeking 
to gather fame and repute, I will seek rather to gather men 
to Christ. I will live so as to enlighten men;" and what- 
ever he acquires, he acquires with the hope of doing good, 
and when he gets old, if he has much of this world's goods, it 
is only that he may use them for his Master, to help bring 
his Master's love to his fellow-men. The Christian does not live 
for himself. This is not his country. His citizenship is in 
heaven, from whence also he looks for the coming of his Lord. 

There is one point in this subject to which I want to call your 
especial attention. These Pilgrims in Vanity Fair did not talk 
religion — they lived it. Men saw by their lives that they were 
sincere and worthy to be followed. If I should give this con- 
gregation any advice, it would be this: Don't talk religion. It 
is a very easy thing to do. All you have to do is to buy a de- 
votional book, commit a few phrases to memory, and let them 
gush out whenever you have an opportunity. But do not talk ; 
just live ; do your duty. You, fathers, when you go home to- 
night, let your children know a father's love. Mothers, bring 
—26 



202 Lecture XIV. 



your dear ones to a knowledge of the Savior. Live, young 
man. that God may crown you. Live each so that those who 
come after you shall you blessed ; that when laid in your coffin 
those who gather around you shall shed tears that you are gone. 
Live your life. Let your light shine; be always shining and 
bright and holy, that men may see your good works and glorify 
your Father in heaven. 

Let us see now how these Pilgrims endured persecution. In 
the first place it is fashionable to say that Christians themselves 
have committed a vast deal of persecution. Scientists are con- 
tinually throwing it in our teeth that Calvin burnt Servetus at 
the stake. Poor old Calvin — poor old Servitus. That the 
church did also stop a scientist from proclaiming that the earth 
rolled round the sun, instead of the sun rolling round the earth, 
is too true. The Church did really persecute that poor man. 
Poor man — poorer Church ! But is that all that the Church has 
done? How strange it is ! The Church has persecuted scien- 
tists — I wonder that there is one left. Wonderfully strange, 
is it not ? We have these two remarkable instances against us, 
and we need not snatch the weapons and render railing for rail- 
ing, and abuse for abuse, l^ut may I say, that having read 
somewhat extensively of scientific literature myself, I find this 
prevalent spirit throughout it, that though Christians nowadays 
may not be particularly wicked, yet they are all foo/s. Well, 
we can bear it. You must not suppose that I have anything 
against science. Christians have persecuted scientists, they say, 
and they have had hard work to reach their present place in the 
face of the opposition of the Christian Church. That I do not 
believe. There are more scientists in the Christian Church and 
in the Christian world to-day than an\\vhere else on the globe. 
And where there is no Pible truth, there you will find no science. 
Well, look at these Christians under persecution. It is the ten- 
dency of human nature always to persecute, and the lower will 
always persecute the higher ; ignorance will persecute learning ; 
weakness will always pick at strength ; light cannot agree with 
darkness; oil will not mix with water; the Spirit of Christ can- 



Vanity Fair. • 203 



not coniniing^lc with the world ; God and the world are antago- 
nistic. And here is an argument against a state Church. In 
some parts of Christendom there are state Churches, and I give it 
as my conviction that they are a curse. Men are talking about a 
state Church for America. When that day comes it will be a 
dark day for this land The true Church and this world are 
antagonistic; the churches have been so mixing with the world 
that they have brought to themselves much of the spirit of the 
world ; and often instead of houses of God being built for sinful 
men to worship in, we see pretentious edifices erected for the 
religious comfort and convenience of those who are altogether 
superior to the ordinary race of men. This is all wrong. So 
the flesh lustcth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, 
and the men of the flesh will always, as they have done, perse- 
cute the men of the spirit. There is nothing that this world, 
taking the word in its fleshly sense, hates as it does the spirit of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. So these men suffered persecution. 
First of all they put the Pilgrims in a cage. I have never seen 
a fair without some men taken to the cage for drunkenness. 
The cage is simply a place of confinement where the culprit's 
feet are made fast in the stocks, and he is thus exposed to pub- 
lic ridicule and public torment, for sometimes twenty-four hours. 
In such a position they can neither stand nor lie down. So 
these Pilgrims were put in the cage because they condemned the 
life of Vanity Fair. 

Faithful was tried for opposing the laws of this world, and for 
open and avowed hostility to the great fair. The accommoda- 
ting jury brought him in guilty and worthy of death, and then 
the persecutors brought him forth, all the while under forms of 
law, abused him, and at last burned him to ashes at the stake. 
And thus came l^\tithful to his end. 

Here we see how a good man dies, and we see an illustration 
too, of the way the good have been persecuted. The reader of 
history will see too how the blood of the martyrs became the 
seed of the Church, and how over against the spirit of persecu- 
tion rose higher and higher the spirit of devotion. 



204 Lecture XIV. 



My brethren, if we want to see what the death of a Christian 
is, we must look here. Study the picture. We see the Hfe fast 
ebbing away ; the strength failing ; the last struggle, the last 
groan ; the eye is fixed, the spirit gone — and that we call death. 
But lift the veil. The Christian has died, and what has become 
him ? He has gone into God's presence — into the Celestial 
City ; he has gone into a more perfect condition ; gone from the 
sight of men into the presence of his Lord. Heaven is not so 
far away; it is only just across the river, that is all. Only a 
little higher up, to our Father's house. It is not millions and 
millions of miles away, but here all around us, influencing us, 
its inhabitants ministering to us and shaping the means of our 
salvation. Faithful was taken the nearest way. He had finished 
his course; he had fought the good fight; he had passed 
through the pangs of martyrdom, and he proved faithful unto 
death. There was the glorious dying of a Christian. 

But what must dying be to that man who has not proved 
faithful to his Christian profession ? What will it be to him who 
fails in the hour of temptation — who is a good man until he 
gets into Vanity Fair, and then turns aside to buy the gilded 
baubles of its vain merchandise, and, having persuaded himself 
that he could purchase an enduring monument with this world's 
gold, at last on his death-bed finds himself a beggar ? What 
must death be to the man who has once tasted of his Lord's 
love, and sold that love for thirty pieces of silver, as the traitor- 
ous Judas did? Ah, when his last hour comes, the feeling of 
that deed, like the murder of his own soul, will rise to drown 
him in despair. 

But the faithful Christian, having passed through all the storms 
of Hfe and resisted the lures of Vanity Fair, swifter than the 
wind, than light, than thought, is caught up instantly to meet 
his Lord, where his Lord has gone to prepare the way. 

My friends, let us be faithful unto death. It is not he who 
lives a good life for a little while, but he that endureth to the 
end that shall be saved. Remember we are not yet out of 
Vanity Fair. Bear in mind the answer of these Pilgrims, "We 



Vanity Fair. 205 



buy the truth ; we sell it not. " Buy the truth about yourselves ; 
buy the truth about the world ; buy the truth about God and 
about Christ ; buy the truth about hell and about heaven ; buy 
the truth about righteousness and a good life ; buy the truth, 
accept no gilt; buy the truth, and if an evil life leads to hell, as 
you dread ruin, flee from that hell. Take the path to heaven, 
and take the first step to-night ; repent of your sins, believe on 
the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. Get the Spirit 
of your Master, who went about doing good. Love God and 
love your fellow-men, and be faithful to this love even unto death. 



LECTURE XV. 



THE HILL LUCRE. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Christian set out alone from Vanity Fair. His influ- 
ence and that of Faithful had been so powerful that many were inclined to 
go with him. One, named Hopeful, was true to his desires, and became 
Christian's companion. They had not gone far before they feU in with Mr. 
By-ends, of the town of Fairspeech, and, shortly afterwards, with Mr. Hold- 
the-world, Mr. Save-all, and Mr. Money -love. As these men made gold their 
god, and were willing to go to the Celestial City "in silver slippers" only, 
the companionship soon ended. The Pilgrims were tempted out of the way 
by one Demas, who owned a silver-mine in the hill Lucre. By him they 
were invited to turn aside, and dig for treasure. They resisted ; but when 
By-ends and his friends came up, they greedily accepted. As the mine was 
dangerous, and had previously destroyed many, they were lost, and by the 
Dreamer seen no more. Christian and Hopeful then came to a pillar some- 
what in the form of a woman, and read on her forehead the solemn words, 
"Remember Lot's wife."] 



THE central idea of this Lecture finds its expression in the 
hill Lucre, in which was a silver-mine, to which the Chris- 
tians were tempted to turn, that they might find treasure. All 
that precedes that scene belongs to it, as well as all that follows 
it ; and it will be a very interesting study, I think, to see the 
kind of men who resisted the temptation, and the quality of 
those who succumbed to it. We shall also be able to see, possi- 
bly, the worldly result of such a temptation as that which Demas 
held out to the Pilgrims. There is something else in the Lec- 
ture, notwithstanding. We have here the introduction of a new 
character, called by our Author, Hopeful. Faithful has ended 



The Hill Lucre, • 207 



his life by martyrdom in Vanity Fair, and has taken the short 
road to the Celestial City. This Hopeful is a Pilgrim, who has 
come from Vanity Fair. Here is one thing that we must pay 
particular attention to : he was instructed ; in fact, he was per- 
suaded to go on a pilgrimage by the manner of life and spirit 
of the men whom he saw in Vanity Fair. This is something 
that we may talk about for a moment. 

Last Sunday night I gave you this advice : do not talk reli- 
gion. If you have any, let it be felt ; if you have any, it will 
take care of itself. You know, when the sun shines in spring, 
it produces all manner of flowers. It clothes all nature 
with beauty. It speaks with no voice, and makes no sound ; 
but the light of the sun, with all that is genial and blessed in it, 
moves in silence, and earth feels it and responds. So let it be 
with our religion. Certainly that is the religion of Christ when 
He says, "Let thy light so shine that men may see thy good 
works, and glorify thy Father which is in heaven." Just live 
the life, and let the influence of its light emanate from you. 

Then we are taught also the influence of a good man's death ; 
not merely of a good man's life, but of his death. Faithful 
perished in Vanity Fair, and Hopeful aro^e to be the companion 
of our original Pilgrim. He tells Christian that there are many 
other men of Vanity Fair of a like mind with himself, persuaded 
by the death of Faithful to go on a pilgrimage. We see the 
illustration of this effect nearly every day of our lives. The 
death of one is the life of many. All the life we know 
anything about in this world of ours is based upon death. 
Things have to die in order to keep the living alive. If we go 
to history, it has passed into an axiom now (a proverb which no 
one will gainsay, I suppose), that "the blood of the martyrs was 
the seed of the Church." And now, frequently, the good pas- 
tor has to die before the congregation is converted. The mother 
dies, and then the children determine to follow her to heaven. 
The father dies, and then his sons and daughters make the same 
resolution. The Sunday-school teacher dies, and then the 
scholars determine to follow him to the higher and better world. 
I know it was so in my own case, and I think it is true in life 



2o8 Lecture XV. 

generally, that men think seriously of religion when a good man 
dies ; and so the death of one, in that way, becomes the life of 
many. 

But Bunyan may mean still another thing. He may intend to 
show the influence, at different times and at different points in 
the Christian's journey, of different Christian graces. Faithful, 
for instance, exhibited the grace of faith, fortitude, obedience, 
firmness. He was faithful unto death against all the bitterness 
of opposition. Now we have Hopeful, in whom, probably, the 
presence of faith was not quite so prominent as in his stronger 
companion, but in whom the beautiful gift of hope bloomed into 
life immortal. And here we have something that is perfectly 
true to life and character. We find a Christian at one period of 
his life exhibiting a particular grace — perhaps that of patience ; 
at another time, he may show forth the virtue of hope ; and, 
under other circumstances, still a different grace, until, one after 
another, the whole round of graces, succeeding to view, cul- 
minate in him, and he stands forth at last like his Master, an 
embodiment of love. Just as the pure light contains all color, 
while itself has none, so a Christian life contains all the graces, 
combined so equally that, like light, it is not valued till lost. 
This accords with Scripture: "He giveth grace for grace; He 
giveth grace according to our need." Sometimes we need that 
of fortitude, and sometimes that of hope ; sometimes we need 
one, and sometimes another. It depends upon the condition of 
our pilgrimage as to the kind of grace the Christian will exhibit 
to the world. 

Now to return to what we said before about the influence of 
Christian life. Remember that the only Bible the worldly 
man reads is the Christian man. Generally the only Bible the 
church-member reads is the pastor of his church ; and gener- 
ally the only Bible a worldly man reads is a Christian life. This 
is as it should be. ' 'Ye are our epistles (Paul might have said, 
'Ye are our Bibles'), read and known of all men. " Our Christian 
example may do our Master's cause harm, or help on His 
blessed kingdom. 



The Hill Lucre. • 209 



These Pilgrims journeyed together in a very happy condition, 
meeting with others upon the road, and with incidents of which 
we need not speak, until they came to the blessed plain called 
the Plain of Ease. 

As travelers in a desert, who, after having toiled under a 
scorching sun all day, come at eventide to an oasis or well of 
water, shaded by palm-trees, and there find refreshment and 
take their ease, so Christians, now and then in their experience, 
come to particular spots that seem perfectly easy and perfectly 
delightful. They, too, find just such sweet places of rest. They 
meet with much trouble ; much that goes against the flesh, and 
are weary and thirsty walking over paths scorched and dry, till 
sometimes they wonder whether, after all, it is worth the while 
to lead a Christian life, instead of going aside after carnal things, 
and obeying the maxims of the world ; and just then they come 
upon some little blessed spot like this, in which they tempt 
themselves to turn from the way and take their ease. I say, 
there are such seasons in the Christian's life, as every Chris- 
tian will testify. And there is danger in these seasons. 

We are apt to suppose, too often, that the danger in Christian 
life arises from persecution and trial ; but those periods are not 
nearly so dangerous — because they are not nearly so deceptive — 
as these periods of delusive peace, by Bunyan so fitly described 
as the "delicate plain called Ease." When there is a calm upon 
the sea, there is much more danger to the ship than when there 
is a storm. The ship can outride the storm, but the question is, 
can she outlive the calm ? When there is a great calm in busi- 
ness ; when a man and his clerks have to fold their arms and sit 
down all day long, waiting for a customer, and, when the 
customer comes, use all their arts not to let him go — I tell you, 
there is a great deal of danger in that condition. Bankruptcy 
seems to be the end of that. But when all are exceedingly 
busy — :all have something to do — the danger is not so threaten- 
ing as in a time of ease. 

There is peculiar danger, then, in these restful seasons of 
Christian life. Let us now consider how well-timed were the 
—27 



210 Lecture XV. 



temptations that assailed these Pilgrims at this part of their 
journey. Just as they began to feel happy in the sense of rest — 
in that blissful frame of mind — they came to a hill called Lucre. 
A hill, you will notice, described as a little out of the way — a 
point I wish you to be particular in observing. Just a little out 
of the way, Bunyan says, there was a silver-mine, and Demas 
was standing just a little out of the way, inviting them to ap- 
proach this silver-mine, and dig for treasure. How well-timed 
was all this! They had tasted the delights of ease, and were 
now tempted to turn aside, only just a little out of the way, 
and easily make themselves rich. 

Satan is never behindhand. When our Lord was hungry, it 
was then the tempter bade him command the stones to be made 
bread ; and when the woman saw the fruit was of a kind to be 
desired to make one wise, it was then the serpent insinuated that 
the day she ate thereof she should not die ; and when God had 
struck Job till nothing was left but his wife and his sores, it was 
then the wife said to him, "Curse God and die ;" when, if ever a 
man [could have cursed, it was then. Tli^ temptation came 
so well-timed that I wonder the good man had power to resist 
it. Just mind this, then, if you please, that temptation to sin 
will assail you at the very moment of your greatest liability to 
yield. It is when you are hungry that you will be tempted to 
make bread in an unlawful way ; when you want to be wise, 
some snare will waylay you ; and when you feel yourself strip- 
ped of all you hold most dear, Satan will urge you to deny 
God. 

The temptation of Demas amounts to this: to go a little 
out of the way of righteousness for silver — to sacrifice righteous- 
ness for money. That is putting it in plain language ; and is 
just what Bunyan meant. It is an old temptation, but it is also 
a new one. It is as old as the time when man first weighed his 
piece of silver, and it is with us fresh and new to day. Men 
have been tempted, and have succumbed ; and men are still 
tempted, and still succumb to the temptation of Demas — to go 
a little out of the way of righteousness, and sacrifice conscience 
and right for riches. Do you ask for examples ? Go into poli- 



The Hill Lucre. ♦ 211 



tics — -not that I believe there is more corruption in poHtical Hfe 
than in any other, but I go there because when instances of 
the sort I refer to occur, they acquire public notoriety, and 
you are all more or less acquainted with them. In the history 
of this, and every other country, there have been men who pro- 
fessed godliness while they sold their country to a party; men, 
too, there have been of this sort who have sold their country to 
a corporation ; there have been men who, after taking upon 
themselves the duty of protecting their country, sold it for a few 
pieces of silver, into the hands of its enemies : as Judas sold his 
Lord, in the hope of being made rich ; so they have sold their 
trust for the love of filthy lucre. 

Go again into business life, and there you will find much of 
what I refer to ; not more there than anywhere else, but it exists, 
and this temptation is very great there. I go into a number of 
houses in the course of my family visitations — not that I am a 
great family visitor, I am not — but I do go into houses some- 
times, and I hear people say, "You know, Mr. N., it does not 
do to send children to the store ; you had better go yourself, 
for they will put anything into the hands of a child, and don't 
serve children as they do adults." Now, is it right to give a 
child ten cents' worth less than to a man or woman ? When a 
man does that, it is not merely ten cents' worth of crime he is 
committing, but he is incurring the weight of the whole moral 
law. It is the unrighteousness in the deed that tells — and that 
is, a man has gone a little out of the way of righteousness for 
silver. The silver may be only ten cents' worth, yet for that 
the man has robbed himself of character and the sense of a good 
conscience, by taking advantage of a little child. 

There is another way in which the thing is done ; one busi- 
ness-man will give you to understand that it is not perfectly safe 
to trade with another business-man. While he probably will 
not say a single word, he will arch his eyebrows, and shut his 
mouth, and shrug his shoulders ; you know a man can be slan- 
dered by an arched eyebrow just as he can by the tongue. He 
don't speak openly, but he gives the impression that you had 
better be careful of that man, for he will overreach you if he 



212 Lecture XV. 



possibly can. Then some men do tell lies in business. It has 
passed into a proverb that business is business; and men say, 
everything is fair in war, in love, and in business. I wish I 
could alter that proverb, and say, business is righteousness. 
Business should be righteousness, and if a religious man, a 
member of the church, professor of godliness, does these things, 
that man is then just what Mr. By-ends describes himself — ma- 
king a stalking-horse of religion to get through the world with. 
Men make a cloak of religion, and think to cover their acts, and 
conscience dies ; but God will judge them for the deeds done in 
the body. 

But then this disposition is not confined to business; it goes 
into the pulpit — it does, really. Bunyan tells us of Mr. Two- 
tongues, who, in order to please his people, says one thing and 
lives another. Then, again, the whole argument of Mr. By- 
ends, and Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Hold-the-world, amounts 
to this : That a man who is a preacher may alter his principles 
in order to please the people, if they require it. Some pressure 
is made upon the preacher, and he is expected to keep back a 
truth which his people may not very well like, under the threat 
that he cannot otherwise get a living among them. On the 
other hand, there are preachers who claim that they have out- 
grown the churches to which they minister, and that they can no 
longer, consistently with their consciences and advanced thought, 
preach the form of theology upon which those churches are based ; 
yet because they get a good salary will still stand there, a 
living pulpit-lie — nothing more or less. Out upon such ! It is 
wickedness in high places; and if men don't despise such false 
prophets, they ought to do so. A just God will judge them. 
If a man has outgrown his church, let him get out of it; let 
him put on a coat that will fit him, and no longer stalk about in 
a borrowed garb, not his own. 

We want more honesty ; we want more men like John Bunyan ; 
we may not agree with all he has said or done, but we must admire 
the honesty of the man. I cannot understand how a man can 
stand up, for instance, in a Methodist pulpit to preach Univer- 
salism, instead of getting out of it into a Universalist pulpit. I can- 



The Hill Lucre. . 2l 



not understand how a man can profess Trinitarianism, and yet 
stand in a Unitarian church and deny it. The world is wide ; 
God will take care of His truth, and He will take care of an 
honest man, anywhere. 

Well, we must hasten on. Let us now look at the applica- 
tion of this lesson to the general immorality of the world. "Look, 
for instance, at immoral literature ; there is money in it — yes, 
there is money in immoral literature. I remember going into a 
large stationery store — not in this city, I am happy to say — and 
I found on a table there a large collection of immoral books. 
I saw a young man come into that store and buy one of those 
books — such as I pray God you young men and women may 
never see or know. I said to the clerk, "Do you sell that sort 
of literature?" "Yes," said he — "Anything you want?" 
"Oh! no, I thank you, I am not here to buy, I merely 
ask for information. Is the proprietor in?" "He will be 
soon." "Is he a member of a church?" "Oh! yes, sir, he is 
a member of a church, and superintendent of the Sunday- 
school." "Indeed! And sells that kind of literature ?" 'Yes, 
sir." "Why?" "There is more profit on that sort of book 
than on anything we sell, sir. Buckle's "Civilization," Gib- 
bons' "DecHne and Fall," "Shakspeare?" — Well, sir, we sell 
twenty dollars' worth of that reading where we sell five of the 
standard sort." "And a superintendent of a Sunday-school is 
selling that sort of stuff?" "Oh! yes." Now is not that 
shameful ? Yet if I have the right of it, I am told that one of 
the most immoral manufacturers of this country is sustained by 
professing Christians. I am told that a firm of professing Chris- 
tians are employed in the manufacture of burglar's tools. I say, 
is not all this shameful ? It is making a stalking-horse of reli- 
gion to get through the world on. That, as Bunyan describes 
it, is rowing one way, and looking another. 

Again, we hear of the Blue Ribbon movement against the 
great liquor interest, and they give us figures upon figures to 
show the crime and immorality it creates. There is much of it. 
The subject is discussed in all manner of forms and shapes, 
as respects the saloon-keeper, the brewer, and the distiller. Do 



214 Lecture XV. 

you think the saloon-keeper really means to make drunkards ? 
Do you think he designs to increase the tide of vice in this or 
any other city? Why, there is not one who has such an idea in 
his head. Well, if you go back to the brewer, does he intend to 
increase the immorality of the country ? No. Go the distiller — 
he thinks of nothing of the kind. Go to the Christian merchant 
who deals in the corn which he knows is going to be employed in 
this way — has he any intention of increasing the prevailing 
immorality? Oh, no; certainly not. Where, then, is the secret 
of the evil that is done? Ah, the good old Book tells us : "The 
love of money is the root of all evil." The saloon-keeper goes 
into the business because there is money in it ; the brewer goes 
into it because there is money in it ; and the corn-dealer goes 
into it because there is money in it. I do not know so much of 
this country, but I know something of the country from which 
I came, and I know that there, some of the principal brewers 
are prominent members of Christian churches. I know some- 
thing of their zeal in support of church work in the city of 
London. I know some of them have written pious and devo- 
tional books, and are personally considered most estimable men ; 
at the same time, I know their love of money is such that they 
love it more than they love men. But we must leave them to 
God; we cannot judge them. We must not attempt to do it; 
to a man's own Master must he stand or fall. We must bespeak 
charity for all men ; only I do say this, that the tendency there 
manifest is clearly this, to go a little out of the way of righteous- 
ness for the sake of the silver that may be found in the hill called 
Lucre. 

I said I did not know so much about this country, yet since I 
have been here, I have learned a little that I did not know 
before. When I first arrived, comparing this country, in the 
light of this chapter which we are now considering, with the 
land where it was written, I thought there could be no such 
tendency to make religion a stalking-horse here as I had seen 
there. There, if you were to go into the churches on a Sabbath, 
you would see many a man who went to church simply to get 
customers ; but I could not think any one would do it here. 



The Hill Lucre. - 215 



Yet I learned that, in the first city where I was a pastor, a man 
came to my church who had just come to the place to begin 
business; and, after he had been there two weeks, a gentleman 
called upon him, and said he, "Look here; I want to say to you 
that if you want to succeed in business in this town, you had 
better join such-and-such a church." I remember in the last 
place where I preached, a gentleman, coming to the village to 
establish a dry-goods business, also came to our church, and 
seeing that we had already two dry-goods men in the congrega- 
tion, went off till he found one where they had none, and there 
he afterwards attended. I have heard since I have been in this 
city that a gentleman — a dentist — came to this church a short 
time, and went away again ; and when asked the reason of his 
change, said, "They have too many teeth there." I did not 
suppose men would do it. I did not think that in this country, 
where men are so much more independent, and where society 
is not burdened with so many old institutions, such events could 
occur. But after all, human nature is much the same every- 
where, and if men can get money by religion, they are apt to 
think they may as well get it that way as any other. Many 
have sold their Lord, many have parted with a good conscience, 
for the sake of a good purse. 

Let us look a moment at the person of a man who succumbed 
to the temptation — By-ends. He said, if you remember, that 
he was for religion in good weather ; he did not believe in going 
against wind and tide. He was not a man of principles, but a 
man of fancies ; a man who was most zealous of religion if only 
she went in silver slippers (you see the figure) — if there was 
only something to be got by it — most zealous for religion when 
she went in silver slippers. There are some men in the world 
who have no principle. It is said that the highest form of ani- 
mal life is that which results in the vertebrate ; that is, backbone. 
A good subject to think about, particularly in these days. 

Those animals that have not backbone are like mere animated 
pieces of mush ; and there are some men who have not yet risen 
to the condition of backbone, and who are nothing but anima- 
ted mush. Do anything you like with them, shape them after 



2i6 'Lecture XV. 

any fancy, they will do whatever pays the best, and risk their 
very soul for filthy lucre. They persuade themselves that it is 
wisdom, and they reason that they have the Bible on their side. 
These men would neither die for themselves, nor for other per- 
sons ; nor would they live to .save their souls, or to save anything 
for their fellow-men. They make the centre of life themselves ; 
they move the earth to contribute to themselves, and they pros- 
titute the treasures of heaven to same purpose. They make 
themselves rich in things temporal, while they arc starving in 
things eternal. 

Well, these men came up in view of Demas, who invited 
them to a hill called Lucre. It was an exceedingly dangerous 
place, as Bunyan describes it ; and of those who yielded to the 
temptation and obeyed the invitation, he says they were never 
seen any more. What became of them, we do not know. Not 
seeing them any more, afforded Bunyan an opportunity to im- 
press the fact upon the minds of the survivors, and so he brings 
them to a view of something exceedingly startling, which was a 
statue, apparently in the form of a woman ; and they lifted their 
eyes to it and saw some hieroglyphics upon it, which they could 
not at first decipher, but finally read upon the woman's salted brow 
the words, "Remember Lot's wife." This, you know, is the 
only text from the Old Testament taken by our Lord, who bade 
His disciples in all time to remember Lot's wife. 

Let us try and recall her for a moment. She was a woman 
who lived in Sodom, in the full enjoyment of all its pleasures. 
Sodom was threatened with destruction, she was warned b}' an 
angel to llee from the city, and with her husband at her side 
she set out on a flight for safety ; but when she was nearly 
across the plain, near the little city of Zoar. she turned around 
to look back towards the spot where her treasures and pleasures 
were — and the pitiless hell pelted her to death, and crusted her 
with its salted fire. Where she turned to look back there 
she stood, dead, a monument for all time to all those who look 
back from a spiritual life to a carnal one. 



The Hill Lucre. « 217 

I have read in some Commentator that Josephus says this 
pillar still remains ; while from other works I learn that there is 
nothing standing there resembling it but the stones into which 
the story has been read. And some do say that one of them 
was the pillar into which Lot's wife was changed. Be that 
as it may, the monument may not stand on the shore of the 
Dead sea, but it stands where it can never crumble away — in 
God's word — a great lesson in history, written for our learning, 
in the Internal Word of God. God has petrified the woman 
who looked back from a flight to save her soul. 

In crossing the ocean, as you draw near the shore you will 
find huge rocks looming from the sea, on which stand light- 
houses. What does that mean ? It means that some time or 
other a party of human beings, on a voyage of profit or pleas- 
ure, struck upon the rocks in the darkness, and went down to 
death ; and to save others from a similar fate, at each of those 
places where such a catastrophe has occurred, a light-house has 
been built to mark the danger. Those light-houses are the 
true monuments of those who have perished, and when through 
the awful night of storm a gleam is caught from those beacons, 
the mariner knows he is in a region of peril, and in haste turns 
his ship in another direction, to save himself and his charge. So 
it is with the Christian. He knows from the statue in the Word 
of God, with the awful inscription upon it, the fate of one who 
looked back when she was in the act of saving her life, and 
where she stood to look back, there she died. He heeds the 
lesson of our Lord, and "remembers Lot's wife." 

Gold is a good thing. Riches are good. It is our duty to 
get as much as we possibly can — to be as rich as we can 
in this world, because it is better for a good man to have 
gold than for a bad one. But the evil is in going out of the way 
of righteousness to get it ; the evil is in doing injury to another 
to get it; sacrificing our conscience in the strife for it ; bank- 
rupting our souls for its sake. There is the danger. And after 
all, suppose we have accumulated all we can, until we fancy we 
have enough to satisfy, and we say to our soul : "Soul, thou 
—28 



2i8 Lecture XV. 

hast many goods, I will pull down these barns and I will build 
greater, for I have not wherewithal to bestow my goods. Soul, 
take thine ease; eat, drink, and be merry." Yet, at last, 
within us will arise a voice, pealing from the inmost depths — 
Thou fool ! thou fool ; a voice at which the dead will shud- 
der in their hollow sepulchres ; the dying with their last 
breath will echo it ; the life just beginning to live will whisper 
it ; all nature will thunder it, reverberating throughout earth's 
remotest hills and caverns ; the still, small voice will arise in 
might, and gathering strength like a whisper in a microphone, 
burst like the shriek of a giant : Thou fool ! this night thy soul 
shall be required of thee — thy soul ! and then whose will be 
the things with which thou hast promised to entertain that soul 
forever ? 

Men are kept out of heaven, not so much by their sins, as 
by their loving earth. Some men have to be converted twenty 
or forty times before they are decent. Other men have to be- 
come bankrupt before they are Christians ; have their homes 
broken up, their children, wife, and friends stolen away and laid 
in the grave, before they come to think seriously 'of that world 
where there is no death, and where there is no sorrow. 

The whole thing comes to this : Will you have a good con- 
science, or not ? Keep a good conscience ; it is the voice of 
God. Do not smother it ; let it speak. It is the personal 
revelation of the Almighty to you. It is the whisper of heaven 
to guide your life. Do not sell conscience ! it is the spirit of 
your Saviour ; the Spirit of your Lord within you. Every time 
it warns you, hearken to its wisdom, for it may save your soul. 
"Remember Lot's wife." While in the very act of being saved, 
she looked back to sinful Sodom ; her heart went after her per- 
ishing treasures ; and she perished because she loved them, and 
and not the things that are substantial and spiritual, eternal 
and abiding. 



LECTURE XVI. 



DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — Their path lay alongside a beautiful river. Here the 
Pilgrims walked with great delight. From it they wandered into By-path 
Meadow. Et appeared to run parallel with their way, but, as they afterwards 
sorrowfully discovered, it diverged slightly at every step, and so before they 
were aware, they had gone far astray. Night came on ; in the darkness they 
attempted to retrace their steps, but failed. Worn and weary, they lay 
down to rest. In the morning Giant Despair saw them asleep in his grounds. 
He, therefore, made them his prisoners, and cast them into the dungeon of 
Doubting Castle, where they were kept a week without light or food. The 
giant frequently beat them, and often m'ged them to make an end of them- 
selves. At the end of the week they began to pray, and then Christian 
remembered that he had a key in his bosom which would unlock any of the 
doors in Doubting Castle. They applied it to the door of the dungeon ; it 
opened, and then to the outer doors and gates of the prison. They all flew 
open, and so they made their escape.] 



BUNYAN now brings his Pilgrims through a new experience ; 
the experience of doubt. 
The just Hve by faith. We live a life of faith upon the Son 
of God. We do not seek things that are seen, but things that 
are not seen. We embrace the promises of God, the pleasures 
and blessings of the life of a Christian, by the exercise of faith. 
This being the case, doubt is frequently exceedingly lively, and 
always extremely liable. The state of faith always supposes 
the opposite state of doubt, and what we find to-day, or might 
infer from known facts, is a marked truth in Christian history. 
Throughout the history of the Christian Church, there have 



220 Lecture XVI. 



been men who doubted the doctrines which were commonly 
received among us, and have expressed their doubts to the world. 

We are all apt to suppose that the things which take place 
to-day, if bad, are worse than any that ever before occurred ; if 
they are exceedingly good, and we are pleased with them, we 
think nothing so worthy has ever appeared before. There are 
a great many Christian men and women who, seeing the preva- 
lence of scepticism to-day, do say that it is a worse form of 
doubt than has ever before existed on the earth. Well, I do 
not believe them ; I have an honest doubt about that. I believe 
that the questioning that exists in the world to-day is more 
honest, more intellectual, and of a much better kind iit its fibre 
and in its intention, than any kind of doubt that the world has 
ever before known. I do not believe that the things of to-day are 
worse than they have ever been ; I think they are better. Good 
men are better than they used to be, and bad men are better 
than they were. The world is progressing, and men are better 
and have truer conceptions of good. 

Nevertheless, we have a more imposing form of scepticism 
to-day. Doubt is more popular than it was, and there seems to 
be a kind of aristocracy of doubt — if I may use such a term — 
which gives it a pretense of a little more than really belongs to 
it. We begin to gauge a man's brain by his capacity for doubt- 
ing; and it is looked upon as hardly an evidence of sanity or 
strength of intellectual fibre to believe the ordinary, simple facts 
of Christ's life, or the doctrines of religion. 

The most extraordinary thing in the world — and, I think, the 
most sublimely ridiculous — is a doubter's smile. After he has 
been talking with you, and discovers that he cannot convince 
you that what he thinks is right, the sublime manner in which 
he will smile upon you, the extreme pity with which he will 
regard you (as if he felt that he ought to be a missionary to 
bring you into larger sympathy with the views of more advanced 
thinkers) — I may say it would be quite sublime, if it were not 
sometimes a little too ridiculous. 

There are three kinds of doubt, it appears to me, in the 
world to-day. 



Doubting Castle. « 221 



There is, first, Philosophical doubt pertaining to the doctrines 
of religion. There are a number of men — and some of them 
of the very finest intellects in the world — who belong to this 
class of doubters. They are sceptical concerning the funda- 
mentals of all religon. They do not take the Christian religion 
into court any more than any other, but arraign them all. 
Hence, they call in question the very being of God. Then they 
will doubt the immortality of the soul, and with that, also, the 
future of rewards and punishments. Not merely do they doubt, 
but some also deny; and they give reasons for their doubts and 
for their denials. We have a great deal of this form of doubt 
abroad, and it is formidable in proportion to its honesty. 

Then we have Rationalistic doubt. The difference between 
the Rationalist and the Orthodox thinker is this : Both agree, I 
think, in receiving the Bible as the Word of God, but the Ortho- 
dox will say every word written therein is the word of God. 
The Rationalist says, on the other hand, these writings of man 
contain the word of God, and he makes it his business to go 
through the Word, separating the wheat from the chaff, and 
what he calls the word of God from the word of man — the mind 
of God, if you will, from the mind of man. Then he will take 
all the good that there may be in other religions, and bring 
it together into a systematized form of theology, conforming all 
to his faith ; and whatever there may be in the Christian religion 
that does not suit his reason, he will cast aside as being unwar- 
ranted to his faith. It is simply the exercise — I think, frequently 
the undue exercise — of reason, sometimes at the expense of 
faith. Still, we have it in the world, and I think it is doing the 
Church of God very, much good service. It has its faults, 
while at the same time it is doing a vast amount of good. We 
want a great deal of Rationalism ; we want to be rational in our 
faith and religion, too; we want to commend it to every man's 
conscience in the sight of God. 

Then there is the Spiritual form of doubt, but not nearly so 
prevalent now-a-days as it used to be. This kind of doubt 
seems to be indigenous to the Calvinistic theology, and that 
type of religious life which makes sensation, or, if you like, 



222 Lecture XVI. 



spiritual feeling, the grand fact of religion. Persons who are 
Calvinistic in their creed, and persons who rely upon their creed 
— let their feelings be excitable or pacific — are very apt to drop 
into this form ; and when they put it into words it takes this 
shape, "Am I elect or reprobate? Was I ever converted? 
Have I not been a hypocrite all these years? Shall I ever reach 
my journey's end? Shall I be received into heaven?" I 
often find these questions among elderly people ; good old men 
and women who have been fighting the Lord's battles year after 
year, and are just ready to lay off their armor and put on their 
crown, but because they have been brought up in a stern 
theology, they question their own salvation. To tell the truth, 
there is not a great liability to this kind of doubt throughout the 
world at the present time. We are too apt to take it for granted 
that, if any one be saved, we are of the saved ones, we are the 
elect. Theology has shifted its battle-ground from where it 
used to be a few years since, and this spirit of doubt has, there- 
fore, no extensive range. I wish men were more spiritually- 
minded; I wish I were myself Still, we must take things as 
they are. 

Let us consider a little the effect of doubt upon the mind. 
Taking the chapter I have read as our text, I think I may say, 
in the first place, that religious lack of belief, whether philo- 
sophical, rationalistic, or spiritual, is a result, and sometimes a 
form, of idleness. The Christian life, as laid down by the Lord 
Jesus Christ, should be a useful life. A man should go about 
doing good ; relieving the necessities of men ; showing by his 
works that he is a child of the Father who is in heaven. The 
apostles insisted that we should show Qur faith by our works. 
And let me say this, the ideal Christian life is one of usefulness, 
and the Christian becomes useful only as he believes in the 
Lord Jesus Christ. Now, I know a great many say they believe 
on the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet are not useful. They come 
to church, but do not work for it, and are of no use to the 
world ; they do not go about doing good. Oh! but, they say, if 
any come to us we always relieve them. And yet, that is 
not going about doing good. Go, and give medicine to the 



Doubting Castle. « 223 



sick, bread to the hungry, a cup of cold water, in the name of 
your Master; go, and clothe the naked, visit those in prisons, 
and teach the ignorant; go, and do that. That is the Christian 
life, and no man is living a Christian life who does not do that. 
He cannot do it by proxy, or leave others to do it for him ; 
but does it himself, as the Lord has commanded, and no man is 
Christ's disciple who does not do His bidding. I do not care 
whether he is a member of the church or not; I do not care 
whether "elect" or not; I do not care whether he thinks his 
name is formally written in heaven as he has signed it on the 
church-roll — no man is a Christian who does not follow his Lord 
in doing good. The ideal life, then, is one of usefulness; but 
doubt makes us useless. If a man does not believe in what he 
does, or in what he is required to do, he cannot do it. It is not 
the men of doubt, but the men of broad, deep faith, who are 
doing good in this world. 

There came a time in the progress of the world when it was 
necessary to provide a relief for the over-populated regions of 
Europe — a relief needed then, and needed centuries afterwards ; 
and there was a man who watched the moon and the stars — a 
man of intellectual power and far-reaching thought, who came 
forth with the declaration that there was another world waiting 
to be discovered, all ready for the people who had become much 
too numerous for their old abode, and he asked that he might 
be sent thither that he might find it. But his country doubted, 
and the world doubted. There was a gathering of the savans 
of the world, who looked upon his plans, and pronounced them 
chimerical — they doubted. By and by, however, the faith of 
the man triumphed ; for it is through faith that we triumph in 
all things worthy ; and after awhile he was permitted to set sail, 
and in due course of time discovered this new world of ours. 
It was that man of all the world who had faith, and not the mil- 
lions left behind, the doubters, that discovered America. 

It is said now that men have lost confidence ; times are so 
hard and money so tight ; but I notice as I go about that it is 
not the men who have lost confidence who are keeping up this 
city and county and state and country, but it is the men who 



224 Lecture XVI. 



believe in man ; it is those who exercise commercial faith that 
keep thins^s i^t^ni^, though they go never so slowly. And 
it is not the man of doubt but the man of faith who keeps 
things moving, morally as well as physically. 

Again, doubt is a state of misery. Bunyan has described it, 
and he brings his illustration from his own experience. That 
good man, John Hunyan, the orthodox Calvinist, rigid, but 
great enlightcner of the world, the man at whose feet the wisest 
have sat, receiving from his hand the water of life — that man had 
tloubts. Is it sinful to doubt ? Certainly not ; so doubt is hon- 
est it is not sinful ; but doubt ma\' be wicked, just as coming 
to church may be wicked, or praying may be wicked. It all 
depends ujion the man, his motives and circumstances. Ikit 
this man Ikinyan was tossed about by his doubts, and cast into 
the deepest possible misery. You can read the story of it in his 
"Sinner Saved" and in his "Holy War." There were various 
kinds of doubt injected into his soul which made him miserable 
and wretched. 

Now why should a state of doubt produce misery? 1 assume 
the fact, first, that it does, without attempting to prove it. And 
now wh)- slunikl a state of imcertaint)' protluce miserx' ? 1 lu^kl, 
though of course 1 may be mistaken, that man has certain in- 
nate religious ideas — intuitions they are called b)' some — and 
one of these intuitions is the soul's instinct of a future life; 
and another truth which 1 hold as written on every man's being, 
is the moral law. Iwery man knows just how every other man 
should act to him, whether he himself acts rightly toward that 
other man or not. h.very man knows what right is. This I 
call the first revelation God has given to man, and God has 
knitted that revelation into every man's being ; it is in his bones, 
in his blood, in his brain, in his soul — it is all over him, and you 
cannot find a man an)-where, until he has been spoiled by civil- 
ization, who does not intuitively believe in a God. I do not say 
he will ha\ e correct ideas about God, but he will believe in the 
existence of a being outside of himself, on whom he depends 
and to whom he is amenable. He believes in the immortalit)' 
of his soul — always desires another life. Again, he believes in 



Doubting Castle. » 225 



his responsibility for his conduct, and in future rewards and 
punishments resulting. 

Then there is another thing that the natural man everywhere 
believes in — he believes in a Christ. Every man has in his soul 
an ideal Christ ; every man expects a Christ, a Savior, some one 
to deliver him ; and those who reject Jesus of Nazareth and the 
Christ in whom we believe, still expect one. Read the history 
of Spiritualism, say during three or four years past. Now and 
then you will find there expressed the prophecy that some one 
is about to be born who is going to deliver this world out of all 
its wretchedness, and place it in a state of peace and happiness. 
Read Kcclesiastical history, and you will find that in every cen- 
tury some one has come forward to pronounce a prophecy that 
Christ would appear. All are looking for a Savior. And not 
only do men have an ideal Christ, but they all expect a Savior 
who will come to help and bless them, individually. 

Now, then, if such ideas as these be native to man's belief, if 
you .should destroy such innate ideas, you would leave the man 
in a state of incompleteness and wretchedness — he would no 
longer be himself. You may deny the fact that there is a God, 
and say there is nothing but the desire for one. You may 
deny the immortality of the .soul, but will still wish that your 
soul was immortal. You may deny that God sent His Son, and 
that he appeared in human flesh for man's salvation ; still man 
will pray that a Savior may come, and long for a Christ to de- 
liver him from the thralldom of his sins. You may deny the 
future of rewards and punishments, and still a man's inmost soul 
will feel that there is a ruling principle of justice in this universe, 
in which he must believe. You may deny it all, and what have you 
done for man ? So far as he believes you he must be unhappy. 
It is said that insane persons never weep, they feel great misery, 
but can never shed a tear, the natural relief for misery. So 
with those who, born with all these cravings after God and im- 
mortality and the desire for righteousness intuitive in the soul, 
if they become deprived of the natural bent to which their own 
instincts would lead them. A state of doubt, then, is a state 
of misery ; and it cannot be otherwise. 
—29 



226 Lecture XVI. 



So miserable were these Pilgrims here that they actually con- 
templated suicide. And, if you remember, Giant Despair him- 
self advised them to lay violent hands upon themselves, either 
by pistol, poison, or the rope. However, in this case, the Giant 
failed to persuade his victims. 

I do not know whether Bunyan himself knew it, but it ap- 
pears he did. It is, however, a fact, for the proof of which I 
refer you to the works of leading Atheists, and if chapter and 
verse be required by any one, I will be happy to furnish them. 
Most of them defend, and many of them advocate suicide. 
This is but a natural result of despair. When a man doubts the 
great facts of life, what is there to live for? Doubt God, and 
what is there to live for ? Say there is no eternity, and what is 
time worth ? Life is not worth the living if there be no God, 
and if there be no immortality. And so very naturally these 
men advocate suicide. If I believed as they do, I think I 
should take my life in my hand and go out from my despair into 
the blackness of darkness forever ; for life is a mockery if there 
be no future, and if there be no God for to love us, through all 
our mistakes. 

Let me now recall to you the circumstances which led them 
into this condition of doubt and despair. You notice the chap- 
ter commences with a delightful description of a river, and the 
Pilgrims walking in the path by its side. P^or my part I really 
don't know anything more pleasing than to walk by the 
the side of an Itnglish stream ; all graceful flowers are growing 
there, and luxuriant fruits hanging above your head. I say I 
know nothing more delightful. As I have read this chapter 
my thought has gone home again to the scenes of my boyhood, 
and the reminiscence has been exceedingly grateful. There are 
sweet experiences, when rightly used, in the life of every Chris- 
tian ; delightful seasons in which we seem to be walking in green 
pastures and beside still waters ; when Christian life appears to 
be all sunshine, all flowers and joy and fruit. There are some 
of those precious seasons in every Christian life. But mark 
this, they do not last long. We are sometimes sorry they do 
not tarry with us ; yet it is no doubt a good thing for us that 



Doubting Castle. • 227 



they do not. As these Pilgrims passed on through this delight- 
ful part of their journey they found that the river and their path 
began to diverge, and as they went on their way apart from the 
river, they were obliged to leave the flowers and fruits and 
pleasing shade, while their path became every moment rougher 
and less inviting, and at last they grew extremely tired. They 
did not like to go away from the river, and they cast about to 
see if they could not find a compromise. 

I have been teaching you all along that the path of the Pil- 
grims was, in the main, a path of ruggedness and self-denial. 
These Pilgrims, soon wearying of the unwelcome revival of 
trial, sought to return to their late delights, and looking over a 
stile, to which they came in their way, they discovered another 
path stretching away through a beautiful green meadow, and 
apparently running parallel with their own, and they thought to 
themselves to take this new path, which looked so easy, and 
leave the old one, now grown so hard. 

How many of us do that ? Christians go to their church meet- 
ings sometimes, and find peculiar seasons of refreshing, and the 
place seems a little heaven below. 

"Once they sing, and once they pray, 
And so they keep the holy day." 

And their hearts keep up an echo to the strain : — 

"My willing soul would stay 
In such a frame as this, 
And sit and sing herself away 
To everlasting bliss." 

But you will notice that such satisfying experiences as these 
lie right in the path of righteousness, not out of it. There is 
great temptation to the soul, in recalling such experiences, to be 
seduced from the way of righteousness, in hope of securing a 
renewal of pleasure Let me tell you, then, that, as a rule, you 
will find the Christian life antagonistic and agonistic ; against flesh 
and blood. It mean.s'to row against wind and tide; it is to go 
against the natural selfishness of the spirit of man ; it is against 



228 Lecture XVI. 



man's pocket, against man's pride, against man's worldliness, 
and against the maxims of this world ; and since its loving, 
Christ-like spirit is only to be found where Christ's love is shed 
in the hearts of His followers, those who leave the path of 
righteousness, in undue longing for pleasure, will find — and find 
in bitterness — that, though it is not hostile to the world, the 
world is hostile to it. Sweet, then, is pleasure when it comes 
in the path of duty, but out of that path it is dangerous. 

Let me show you, by one or two illustrations, of this going 
astray. There are those who substitute worship for duty. Do 
you not know it is a very easy thing to go aside on Sunday, 
and, as it is called, "worship God?" Let the choir sing to you, 
and criticise it ; let the preacher preach to you, and criticise 
him ; sit in displeasure, and go away in disparagement ; or be 
pleased, and retire to talk of the excellence of the sermon and 
the melodious singing. It is easy. Ah, good man, he has 
been to Church, and he thinks he is a Christian ! But that is 
not being a Christian. As well might a man, after eating a 
hearty breakfast of his wife's preparing, stalk down town saying 
to himself, "I am a good financier." Ask his wife; she knows. 
A man comes here to the public service, takes part in worship, 
and says, "I am a good Christian." Ask God; He knows. 
Let me tell you, my friend, if you come to worship your Maker, 
forgetting your brother, forgetting a little child whose daily 
prayer for bread you might have answered — if you come here 
forgetting those, the love of God does not dwell in you. Do 
not forget them for worship. I notice some people think they 
exhibit considerable interest in the Sunday-school because, once 
a year, they go to the Sunday-school picnic, and after that, all 
the year round, never come in to take a class. I do not 
think they are very much interested in the Sunday-school. I think 
they make a very poor display of Christian interest. Going to 
a picnic does not bring you into the Sunday-school, but, on the 
contrary, taking a class and teaching it so faithfully that you are 
so worn out you cannot go to a picnic — that would help the 
school along. Here, then, is the first mistake: leaving right- 
eousness for pleasure. 



Doubting Castle.. , 229 



And now, another thing : In going aside, they fall in with Ego- 
tism and Self-Confidence. When these Pilgrims got out of the 
way, they saw a man named Self Confidence before them, and 
they asked him where he was going ; he said to the Celestial 
City ; so they took it for granted that they must be in the right 
way. Some men are very confident they are on the way to the 
Celestial City, when they are not going there at all. We are 
apt to be untrue to ourselves; cover up our sins; disguise our 
shortcomings. He that doeth not the Master's will goes astray, 
and in duty neglected, danger begins. There is danger in obey- 
ing one's self-confidence and trusting to one's own notions, 
instead of abiding strictly by the will of God and the declarations 
of Christ. 

Then, how these Pilgrims got into doubt, appears to have 
been: First, through tasting religious pleasure; then, in hope 
of renewing the pleasure in going astray from the Path of Right- 
eousness; and then finding themselves in the wrong path, contin- 
uing in it through self-conceit and egotism. 

Now, then, for the way out of this condition of doubt and 
despair. 

One way is mentioned by Bunyan, and that is by prayer. These 
Pilgrims began praying on Saturday night, and kept on praying 
until the break of day ; all night long through the darkness they 
continued in prayer. But some one will say, I do not believe 
in prayer. Well, that proves you have never been at sea ; be- 
cause if you had ever been in a storm at sea, you would believe 
in prayer. Now, let us understand each other about this matter 
of prayer. You say you do not believe in it, but, perhaps, you do 
not understand what prayer is. Perhaps you reply, I have not 
thought it worth while to think about it. Well, I tell you 
frankly, on the whole, I mVself do not believe in many preva- 
lent theories concerning prayer, yet I believe in prayer, and I 
may tell you that you are not true to your own nature if you 
have no faith in prayer. The soul, with the tongue of its native 
instinct, cries out for God, and will pray. Who are you to 
gainsay it? Look at the dying man, with his feet on the 
threshold of eternity, hear him pray; see the storm-tossed 



230 Lkcpukk \\'1. 

mariner, lunv he calls on Ciod lor salot)'; bchi^Ul {he nuUlu-r 
stoopinL; o\ cr hcv sick babe, hows she prays; the widow and 
tlu' itrphan, aliHU", cryini;" for their heax'enly l'\'\ther's care ; ah, 
look at the sinner afraid t<i ilie. ami hear his \uMce o( as^ony ; 
see the savage bowiiii;- before his strange god — and tell nie il" the 
voice of natnre iloes not call out for prayer? It cUk's so. aiui if 
you ha\e lu^t praj'ed, \ou will pray sometime, and you had 
better tlo so now. 

The wa\' out. according to Bun\an. is by pra\'er. There was 
a man who last winter went to l\lr. NKhhK'. lie hail preximisly 
sought coinlort lor the troubles ol his soul tn>ni inan\- ot the 
leading [lastors of C'hicago, but the\- could not satisty him. 
ilis doubts lingereil; and finally he sank into despair, and was 
in daiii^ei o[ being a castaway. At length his friends persuaded 
him to see M<ntd\-. io whom he was at fust a\erse, as not being 
a man oi sulVicient culture to help him. Wc went to Moody, 
howexiM-. and made known his case; and when the I'A-angelist 
heard it. he saiil : "M\- iVitMul. 1 can't (\o anything for wni ; 
yoms is such a case as onl\- the AlmightN' Ciod can sa\e.'" and 
down he went on his knees and began to pra\' ; ami the man felt 
the lorce o[ w hat was said, and soon fell on his knees also ; and 
there b\- MihhIx-'s side his doubts were dissipateil. and he saw 
the light. 

1 do not know whether n'ou haw^ reail the life of that remark- 
.ible man, Charles Kingsley. a man as different from Mood)' as 
viHi cmilil possibl\- conceive aniUher man to be. When he sent 
out ".\Uon l.ocke. " the religious w 01 Ui cried against it, but the 
author w.is in earnest, .md. after the outer)', a letter w.is received 
from one ot the most mUorious .Atheists o[' I'.ngland. and one of 
thi- most intellectual thinkers, s.u'ing that when he read the 
bi^ok- — tlunigh he h.ui L;one throu^^h m.m\' .ipologies lor Chris- 
tianit)- without conviction — when he lead that simple stor)', he 
felt that here was a man who was living near to God. Com- 
munion with Kingsle)' leil him to jMaxer. and in [ira)-er that 
man fouml the peace which all shouUl seek at\d .dl must desire. 

While these Tilgrims were pra)'ing. CMiristian suddenh' cried 
out to llojielul. "What a fool am 1 to be l)ing here in this 



DoiMnMN(; Castle. 2^1 



dunp^coii, when I h.ivc a key in iny pocket tliat will unlock all 
and any of these doors." "Tull it out." said Hopeful, "and 
try it." And he pulled it out, and with it they unlocked the 
first door, and then the next, and at last the outer door, and so 
fled away, thoui;"h (iiant Despair did his best to brinij;^ theni back 
as;ain. This was the key of promise. Iwery prayer is based 
upon promise, or it is no prayer at all. iwery prayer brings 
the pronn'ses in sight. 

"Prayer makes the darkest clouds withdraw ; 
I'rajer climbs the ladder Jacob saw." 

I'rayer pierces earth and reaches heaven. It lirins^s the love 
of the P'ather to the child, when the child is relyini;" upon the 
l'"atluM's promise. 

Hut, yt)u may .say, "That does not suit me at all, for 1 do not 
believe in prayer." Let me ask you again, have you ever tried 
it? "Why, no, certainly I have never tried a thing which I 
regard as absurd." But I say it is absurd, foolish, and wicked 
for you to say prayer is absurd when you have never tried it. 
Suj^posc you are sick and call a physician, and he looks at your 
symjitoms and prescribes for you, and you ask him, "What's 
that you are going to give me?" and he tells you the name of 
the medicine — would you say to the physician, "I sent for you 
to prescribe for me, but I do not believe in the medicine you 
advise?" Says the physician, "Have you ever tried it?" "Oh, 
no," say you, "I have not tried it, for I do not believe in it." 
What an absurdity! If the physician should say, "I am your 
physician, and I tell you it is adapted to your case, and if you 
take it you will get well," would you not finally take his advice 
and the medicine? Trust entirely to your physician ; do just as 
he tells you. It would be foolish in the extreme to refuse his 
remedy because you did not believe in it, when you had not 
tried it. 

God says to us in his Book, Ask and ye shall receive, seek 
and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you ; try 
Me and prove Me, and see if I will not open the windows of 



232 Lecture XVI. 



heaven and pour upon you such a blessing as you shall not have 
room to contain. 

But they not only prayed, they continued in prayer. There 
was a poor woman who went to an unjust man and cried for de- 
liverance from her oppressor, but the man would not hear 
her, until finally she prevailed through her importunity; then, 
says Christ, "Will not God avenge His own elect who cry day 
and night unto Him ? I tell you He will avenge them, though 
He bear long with them." Then there was a man who became 
dissatisfied with himself, and looked back over a life of decep- 
tion, wrong, and devices to make favor with men, until he found 
out at last that to make true favor with men he must first be in 
favor with God. He knelt by the brook Jabbok, and all night 
long wrestled and prayed for a blessing; when it was slipping 
from his grasp he held it tightly, crying out, "I will not let thee 
go until I find the secret of the universal blessing; I will not re- 
lease thee until this change is wrought. " And so prayer pre- 
vailed and Jacob was converted into Israel ; the man of decep- 
tion to a man who prevailed with God. 

Try it, my friend, make the experiment. God does hear and 
God does answer prayer ; not anything and everything we like 
to bring before Him ; not in our own way, but always in His 
own way; all we ask in submission to His holy will. 

Prayer will dissipate doubt. Prayer will bring us to lean 
upon God. Prayer will bring life and strength to our souls, and 
enable us to live the life of faith upon the Son of God. 
And not only faith in Christ, but what does Christ say ? Have 
faith in God. We must not forget the F'ather in the Son. We 
must not forget God in Christ. Christ leads us up to God — 
brings the wandering spirit back to God — lifts the fallen up to 
God. Believe in God the Father. All things are possible that 
are not sinful with God ; and all these things are possible to him 
that believeth. 

Are any of you, my friends, in doubt ? Young man, are you 
in doubt — in doubt about the realities of the Christian life — of 
the facts of the holy life ; of Christ ; of the common belief among 
us ? Are you in uncertainty ? What shall I say to you ? 



Doubting Castle. , ^ 233 



I remember reading of a Man who went about healing all 
manner of diseases, and there was a poor afflicted woman who 
heard of this Man. She believed in His mission and His power, 
but she went her own way about being cured. She sought no 
introduction — used no formality. There was no hypocrisy or 
pretension about her. She simply said to herself, I believe in 
His power ; I believe in the efficacy of His touch, and if I can 
but just touch the hem "of His garment, though I am such a 
poor and miserable creature, I feel that I shall be healed. I 
know His willingness to heal — yet I will not intrude. I am 
very poor and very wretched. And so she watched Him as he 
came from the house of the dead, whom He had been raising to 
life, and the crowd pressed around Him. His disciples were 
trying to defend Him from the multitude. She brought herself 
in His way, and with the tip of her finger touched the hem of 
His robe as He passed, and she was immediately made whole. 

Young man, if you have doubts, seek the Savior, but seek 
Him in your own way. Pray in your own way. Do not pray 
as we tell you. Pray in your own way. Wrestle into faith. Do 
anything that will drive darkness, despair, and doubt from your 
soul. Rest not in unbelief; act upon the one or two things 
that you do believe ; be true to yourself all the way, and re- 
member that many men have reached the eternal yes through 
the everlasting no. Live a life of faith, and do not attempt, for it 
is impossible, to live a life of doubt. A man must believe. Do 
you now believe ? If you believe in God and Christ ever so 
feebly, be this your first prayer, "Lord, I believe, help thou 
mine unbelief." It has been answered ; God grant that it may 
be in your case. 



— ^o 



LECTURE XVII. 



/■ 



THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 

[Synopsis of CirArxER. — From Doubting Castle to the Delectable Mountains, 
in Iranianuel's Land, the Pilgrims came. Here they were met by the shep- 
herds Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sincere, who shewed them 
some wonders, notably : The scene Irom Mount Error, where thej' were 
apprised of the effect of false doctrines ; next, the scene from Mount Caution, 
where they saw the effect of doubt ; then the By-way to Hell from tiiat 
advanced stage of pilgrimage; and, lastly. Mount Clear, from whence 
they had a prospect of the Celestial City. They left, singing.] 



YOU will have noticed, as we have proceeded with these 
Lectures, that the better part, the brighter and more joyous 
experiences of these Pilgrims, are reserved for the latter end of 
their journey. It is quite true that they have been in many 
severe conflicts and trials, but it is also a fact that the increased 
joy counterbalances the increasing sorrow. 

We are now brought to a very advanced stage of the Pilgrims' 
journey. Here we have a very beautiful pastoral scene, where 
the Christians are represented as enjoying themselves in a hal- 
lowed and blessed spot. 

Now, we may adopt it as a principle, and I think make 
ourselves certain, that the further we go in any right course of 
hfe, the better it is for us ; the happier we are in it, and the 
easier it is to progress. I have heard parents say that, though 
they have had much trouble and sorrow and anxiety with their 
children who have passed out of their hands into life, yet, as 



The Delectable Mountains. 235 



counterbalancing that increased sorrow, they have also great joy 
in seeing them taking their part in the world as men and women. 
Parents say, "We never were so happy as in having our children 
every night under our roof; and now, when they have grown 
up and have gone out for themselves, we spend anxious nights 
wondering where they are, whether they are safe, morally and 
physically;" and yet, then we hear them acknowledge, "When 
we see our son a man in body, intellect, and character, fighting 
the battles of life as a man should ; and when we see our 
daughter a woman, with all the beauty of virtue resting upon 
her, out in life, ornamented with a meek and quiet spirit, bring- 
ing home again the sweet memory of days not long passed 
away — wc find ourselves happier far than when we heard their 
infant prattle, so full of music to our ears." And so it is in 
everything. You see a pupil in music ; she begins with a great 
deal of hard work, and progresses with effort still harder. The 
master first sets her to learn the fingering of the instrument; 
then he gives her a harder score. As she goes on, her progress 
is still a series of hard beginnings. By and by, when she has 
mastered the instrument and mastered the score, and become 
independent of both, as she strikes the keys she puts music 
into the instrument exceeding her utmost expectation, and that 
which was a .synonym for toil is now the term for joy. Here is 
a boy whom we send to school. While the teacher is trying to 
teach him the elements of education, he is thinking, perhaps, 
only of tops, and marbles, and jack-knives. When you ask 
him about his lesson, he makes many blunders; his mind is run- 
ning on a dog-fight, or a boy-fight, or something of that kind, 
and it is simply misery to him to be cooped up in school all day 
long. But you keep him at it, and in a few years you will find 
that same boy in a corner reading "Robinson Crusoe," and you 
cannot get him away from the book, for he has progressed to 
the point of enjoying that most charming of all books for boys; 
and so, you see, in this case also, that to him at last his great- 
est sorrow has become a source of the greatest pleasure. Now, 
it is just so in Christian life. It is a much harder thing to begin 
it than to continue. The difficulties that inhere in it pass away, 



236 Lecture XVII. 



and we become strong as we grow, and as we go on, joy comes 
to the soul. 

And here I will add what, perhaps, some young people may 
not at once believe, that old people are much more beautiful 
than young ones. It is a fact, however. Spring is exceedingly 
beautiful, with its flowers and perfume ; summer is grand, with 
all its multitudinous growth and splendid efflorescence ; but the 
fall of the year, with the halo of age upon it ! with ripening 
harvests ! with all the trees dying in beauty ! — is the sweetest 
sight Nature has to give us ! A young man is wonderfully beau- 
tiful. There is something divine about a well-developed, well- 
balanced, strong young man ; but he is nothing to the old man, 
with a hoary head, found in the way of righteousness, sur- 
rounded by a corona of years and virtues, ripening into Christian 
glory. A maiden, just passing into womanhood, is beautiful ; 
but she is naught compared with the loveliness of the holy 
mother brooding over her children, about whom hovers a sacred 
beauty, without which no home can be complete. It is God's 
plan to give us more beauty and more joy as we progress in any 
right and useful way. Then, let me encourage those who find 
the beginning arduous ; let me encourage them by promising 
that, the further they go, the better it will be, and the joys of 
their religious experience they will find to arise out of their 
trials and conflicts. 

I saw a man, yesterday, carrying a heavy burden on his shoul- 
ders. He was a colored man, and he was met by another 
colored man, whom I heard say to him, "Sam, you seem always 
to have a heavy load on your back; I pity you." Sam looked 
at him a moment, and said, "Yes, that's so, but that is the way 
I get my living." My fancy followed him as he went home on 
Saturday night with the fruits of his heavy burdens : the food 
and clothing, and, perhaps, a picture for his children and a book 
for his wife. I thought of the contrast as I walked along, and, 
entering upon the public square, saw a number of men standing 
about the corners, with their hands in their pockets, whose only 
occupation the whole day long was to keep the stores from fall- 
ing. They were not getting their living, because they had no 



The Delectable Mountains.- 237 



heavy loads to carry. Most of the enjoyments of Hfe, one way 
or another, come from the burdens we carry. It is so in prac- 
tical affairs, and it is not less so in religious experience. 

Again, these Pilgrims are represented as meeting some shep- 
herds in the Delectable Mountains. These shepherds are, 
undoubtedly, a true allegory of the qualities developed in the 
soul at a certain stage of Christian experience, but we may make 
another practical application by considering them as a figure of 
the proper qualifications of Christian ministers. These shep- 
herds are represented as tending their flocks. The common 
figure of the Christian ministers in the churches of the day is a 
shepherd ; a pastor. We may, therefore, regard this as Bunyan's 
lesson of what a Christian minister should be. The names of 
these shepherds are Experience, Knowledge, Watchful, and 
Sincere. Undoubtedly it is the duty of a Christian minister, 
in order to save the souls entrusted to him, to lead, guide, and 
instruct them. 

The physician and the attorney must be qualified to do their 
service to the bodies and estates of men, and it is none the 
less important for a minister of the Gospel to be duly qualified 
to fulfil his responsibilities. If you read the Old Testament you 
will find the expression, "The priest's lips should keep knowl- 
edge." Read through the New Testament and you will find it 
is the same thing. Paul advises Timothy not to lay hands on a 
man suddenly, nor put a novice, that is an ignorant young con- 
vert, into the office of the bishopric, lest he fall into condemna- 
tion of the devil — in other words he says, don't put an ignorant, 
untried man, at any cost, into the Christian ministry. When 
you look at it for a moment you see the reason, for he is a man 
who has in his hands, it might almost be said, the eternal wel- 
fare of immortal souls. Such a man must not be ignorant. 
People should demand knowledge in their ministers, and men 
should be in no hurry to rush into the Christian ministry. I 
began to preach when I was fifteen years of age, but I wish I 
had not begun until I was thirty ; for I have an idea that no 
man is fully grown until he arrives at those years. At any rate, 
Christ waited — although we are told he grew daily in wisdom 



238 Lecture XVII. 



and in stature, and in favor with God and man ; although he 
could put and answer questions with the doctors in the temple, 
yet Christ waited until he was thirty years of age before he be- 
gan to preach the gospel. Paul went for three years into Arabia 
before he was qualified to preach ; and Moses was qualified with 
an Egyptian education and long training before he was chosen 
to lead the people from bondage to the promised land. God 
needs no man's ignorance. God is not the author of confusion 
and has no work for the hands of the ignorant. Too much 
learning there cannot be in a Christian minister, if he would be 
fully equipped and prepared for his great work. He must pos- 
sess knowledge, but what kind of knowledge ? 

There was a time when the Christian minister was the depos- 
itary of all knowledge in his parish ; all matters pertaining to 
literature and science, as well as theology, were referred to him. 
But now, since mental growth has become so rife amongst us, a 
minister's work has become more clearly defined, and it will 
become still more clearly so as society moves along. The min- 
ister will have his separate work in his own separate department, 
and others will have theirs; he will no longer be looked upon 
as a walking encyclopedia of all the learning of the community. 
Yet he will need knowledge. And first — if I may be allowed 
to premise, I am not at all my own ideal of a Christian minister; 
He must know that he has passed from death to life. 

It must be clearly defined in his own mind that God is good 
and Christ is precious. He must have the witness of the Spirit 
with his spirit that he is a child of God. He must know that 
he loves men, and has passed from death to life. 

Again, he should know a great deal of the Word of God. 
An old Puritan divine said there were just three qualifications 
for a complete Christian minister. 

First. A good set of brains in his head. 

Second. A good knowledge of the Word of God. 

Third. The grace of God in his heart. 

But he not only needs to be learned in the written Word. 
He must also know human nature; he needs to study men, 
and the only way in which he can do that well is to work 



I 



The Delectable Mountains. • 239 

among men. The best college to which you can put a preacher 
is the ordinary vocation of life. Paul learned much as a tent- 
maker ; Christ was a carpenter's son. Let him go among men 
and study them and understand them, if he can. 

I had a deacon in one of the churches over which I presided, 
who was very wise, or at least he so impressed me, in his own 
conceit. He came into my study one day and saw a work upon 
Mental Philosophy lying upon my table, and he had an idea that 
a Christian should read nothing but the Word of God, or, as he 
phrased it, "The Werd" — I cannot pronounce it just as he did — 
just a little cant and slang attached to that style of thing that 
is simply detestable to me. Well, he said, "What do you do 
with such a book as that, now?" "Why," I said, "I read it." 
"But what does a preacher want to read that for?" And he 
took it up and looked at the title — I think he could scarcely spell 
it. He remarked again : "All you want is to study the Word. " 
"Well, now, my friend," said I, "you are a farmer, are you 
not?" "Yes," he said, "I am." "What is your soil?" I 
asked. "Well," he replied, "limestone; a good deal of lime- 
stone in it." "What is it good for?" "Well, it is a capital 
soil to feed sheep on and for raising some kinds of grass. " 
"Ah," said I, "it appears you know about your land, you have 
been studying something else yourself beside the seed you sow 
on it ; therefore you see I am no more foolish than you, for as 
you have been studying your soil, so I am studying mine; this 
work informs me in respect to the soil where I expect to plant 
my seed, and it is just as necessary for me to understand my 
soil as for you to understand yours ; for I suppose you would 
not sow any kind of seed on your limestone, and so I am not 
going to cast any sort of seed on my stony hearts, this way and 
that, without regard to where it may light, or what good it may 
do. " Whoever studies the subject must come to the conclusion 
that it is absolutely necessary for a preacher of the Gospel to 
study men, and to become well acquainted with other men^ it is 
well to apply the advice of the old philosopher, "Know thyself." 
They know men and speak for them best whose own hearts 
have taught them the lessons of human love and trial. I used 



240 Lecture XVII, 



to think I was particularly tender and sympathizing with the 
bereaved, but there came a time when death entered my own 
house ; took away my fairest flower and laid her in the cold 
grave. After that my ministry to the afflicted seemed a differ- 
ent thing, for whereas before I only felt for them, I now felt 
with them. O ! it is good for preachers to be tried, and if I 
have learned anything in life beside what I have acquired from 
study, it has been in the hours of trial common to all men. 
While they have been bitter they have called forth a song. 

Then the shepherds were not merely men of knowledge and 
experience, but they were also watchful. They watched their 
flocks. They were men who could give an account, and were 
very careful of those whom God had entrusted to them. Watch- 
fulness in connection with a preacher is generally understood to 
mean that he is good family visitor, and no doubt it is often sup- 
posed that if he is not a good visitor he is not very much of a 
pastor, and does not fulfil this requisite qualification of watch- 
fulness ; accordingly there are preachers, and I believe religious 
men, too, who visit from house to house industriously, seeking 
to become what is called acquainted with their people. Yet 
you cannot know a people by family visiting, where you are 
taken politely into the coldest and primmest room of the house, 
to wait until the friends are dressed and ready to "receive" you, 
and where people do not show their interior life, but only their 
veneer. They do not tell you their trials, except some few that 
must come to the surface ; you cannot know a people in that 
way. You cannot know a people except in trials, when your 
friendship and assistance are welcome. 

In this connection let me remark that there is no good in 
preaching in the abstract ; none at all. The sermons I preached 
at a former parish would not fit you, and the sermons which are 
being preached in New York, to-night, would be of no use 
whatever here. Suppose a lawyer, before a jury, should take 
up an old plea, made in an old case before some other jury, ten 
or twelve years ago, and use it again in the trial pending. 
There is a specimen of a good plea in the abstract. Or, imagine 
him applying one of Demosthenes' orations to a Fourth of July 



The Delectable Mountains. , 241 



celebration. A good thing in the abstract, you will say, but not 
suited to the occasion. Watchfulness, then, requires special 
study of the Word of God in its application to the special case. 
There is no good of family visiting in the abstract, any more 
than there is in abstract preaching. 

Then there is another word in Bunyan's description of the 
shepherds expressive of a very essential qualification in a 
preacher of the Gospel — that is, Sincere. The word has a his- 
tory. It comes from the potteries. When in olden times men 
tested the quality of pottery, they used to rap it with their 
knuckles, and if there was a crack or flaw in the article, that 
crack or flaw would spoil the music of its ring ; but if there was 
no crack or flaw, and the article was whole, it would ring out a 
sweet, whole tone — sincere, sincere — and keep on ringing to 
show that it was true. It is necessary, when we preachers are 
rapped by the knuckles of trial, that we, too, should ring out 
sincere. Oh, it is necessary for men to be true, and especially 
preachers of the Gospel. It ought to be remembered that it is 
the life that preaches, and not the tongue ; honest manhood and 
true purpose, with love for souls, and not mere talk in the pul- 
pit, however eloquent that talk may be. 

These shepherds took our Pilgrims to see the wonders of the 
Delectable Mountains. First of all. Christian and his companion 
were led to the top of a hill called Error. This hill was steep 
on the further side, though easy to climb. They looked down 
to the bottom, and there beheld a number of people, dashed to 
pieces by falling off the precipice. Bunyan then gives examples 
of those who have fallen over there by getting into the error of 
denying the resurrection of the body. This part of the Alle- 
gory is intended to illustrate the natural result of religious error. 

The very first error of religious men in our days, I think, is 
this, that it does not matter at all what a man believes, so he 
does right. You may go on doing right, it is said, and no 
matter what you believe ; the sort of notions you may have in 
your head are of no consequence whatever. 
—31 



242 Lecture XVII. 



That seems to be the prevalent error in the Christian 
churches of to-day. But the error is unmistakable and seri- 
ous, because all that a man does is built upon his beliefs ; 
built upon something spiritual, which convinces him and guides 
his motives. If a man is inaccurate in his thinking, that man, 
by that inaccurate thinking, will run into folly, and folly will 
very soon lead him into sin. I have no doubt, indeed, but the 
Christian church has imposed, and still does impose upon men, a 
number of doctrines not necessary for salvation ; but I say this, 
that no man can think correctly, and therefore live correctly, who 
does not receive into his heart correct and true doctrine. You 
might just as well say that it does. not matter what a man eats, 
so long as he works well, as to say that it is no matter what he 
believes, so that he lives well. Much depends upon what a 
man eats. Mistakes are fatal, though time may be required to 
prove them. So, suppose we go out to gather mushrooms. 
"Mr. N.,"you say, "is this a mushroom or a fungus ?" "Oh, 
no matter ; you eat it. If you relish it, it is mushroom ; and if 
it kills you, it is fungus." 1 know it has killed others, but then 
it does not matter what a man eats, so that he lives. Do 
you not see that his life depends on what he eats and drinks ? 
Read history. All sin has had its beginning somewhere or other 
in false doctrine. Take Rome: when she began to fall, she 
began first in her doctrines of religion. Take the history of any 
nation, and it is the same ; of the old Grecian philosophers, and 
it is the same. Instead of building on eternal principles, they 
left them, and by degrees became corrupt, till Socrates came 
asking for the truth, and they gave him hemlock. The history 
of all the world, I say, tells the same tale. And we know what 
error is by the fruit it bears ; a good tree cannot bring forth bad 
fruit. My advice is, take heed to the Word and the doctrine, 
and be careless about neither. 



Then the Pilgrims are taken to the Hill of Caution, where, 
they are given a kind of retrospect; they look far off and see a 
number of men walking up and down among the tombs. They 



The Delectable Mountains. 243 

perceive that those men are blind and stumble about, and can- 
not get out from among the tombs. Christian asks the shep- 
herds what this means, and is told that these men went out of 
the way because it was rough, and were thus led aside into 
Doubting Castle, and finally taken by Giant Despair, after hav- 
ing their eyes put out, to live among the tombs. They were lit- 
erally the blind leading the blind ; they could not see, and thus 
were an illustration of the result of shirking ; for it leads to 
doubt, and he who encourages doubt, loses at last the capacity 
of belief When a man has arrived at that point, there is no 
telling where he will go. He can no longer tell right from 
wrong — seems not to have the moral grip to get and keep the 
truth to himself So there are a number of men who are ac- 
customed to praise reason at the expense of faith; they are 
going to believe nothing, they say, but that which they can 
prove by reason ; it is not intellectual, they say, to believe ; for- 
getting that doubt itself is belief of a negative kind. What are 
the facts in the case ? Read the history of men who eschew 
faith in the ordinary doctrines of the Christian Church, and what 
will you find ? Take Lord Herbert of Cherbury, one of the first 
English Deists ; he wrote a book to prove that revelation was 
unnecessary, and that Christianity was not a revelation. Read 
his life and you will find that, after he had written his book to 
prove revelation unnecessary, and that Christianity is not a 
revelation, he doubted whether he ought to publish it. He can 
best tell how his doubts were overcome : 

"Being thus doubtful, in my chamber, one fair day in the 

summer, my casement being open toward the south, the sun 

shining clear, and no wind stirring, I took my book, De Veritate, 

in my hand, and kneeling on my knees, devoutly said these 

words: — 

' O thou Eternal God, author of the light which now shines 

upon me, and giver of all inward illuminations, I do beseech 

Thee of thy infinite goodness, to pardon a greater request than 

a sinner ought to make. I am not satisfied enough whether I 

shall publish this book, De Veritate ; if it be for Thy glory I 



244 Lecture XVI I. 



beseech Thee give me some sign from heaven ; if not, I shall 
suppress it. ' 

'T had no sooner spoken these words, but a loud though gentle 
voice came from the heavens — for it was like nothing on earth — 
which did so comfort and cheer me, that I took my petition as 
granted, and that I had the sign I demanded; whereupon also 
I resolved to print my book. This, how strange soever it may 
seem, I protest before the Eternal God is true ; neither am I in 
any way superstitiously deceived therein, since I did not only 
clearly hear the noise, but in the serenest sky that I ever saw, 
being without a cloud, did, to my thinking, see the place from 
whence it came."* 

As Dr. Vaughan says: "The noteworthy aspect of the affair 
is, that a book which denies the existence of an eternal revela- 
tion, which tells us it would be superfluous if given, is made to 
come to us attested by such a revelation ! We are expected to 
believe in a work which denies the supernatural, because its 
author has been assured of its truth by means of the super- 
natural. Lord Herbert is an existence of such importance that 
a revelation has been made to him, but the great heart and soul 
of humanity in all past time, has not been an existence im- 
portant enough to have been so favored." 

If your mind is in the habit of doubting, there is nothing you 
may not btc led to believe. So when men give up the Scripture 
there is no telling into what they may drift. Foolish and ridicu- 
lous, you know, to believe the truths contained in the Scriptures ! 

There are men who scoff at the idea of a spiritual religion, 
and yet are very curious about spiritualism, and hold doubtful 
communications with spirits, to all appearances from below, 
while denying communication by means of prayer with the 
Father of spirits above. Spiritualism is a grand fact. There 
can be no Bible if spiritualism is untrue, but when men reject 
the spiritualism of the Bible, do they get a better? Certainly 
not. Read the works of Andrew Jackson Davis, and you will 
find in his "Great Harmonia" how he has informed the world 

* Life of Edward Lord Herbert, pp. 279, 280 



The Delectable Mountains. 245 

that the Bible and the teachings of Christian churches are all 
antiquated, and that he comes to bring a new revelation from on 
high of a new order of things speedily to be ushered in. We 
read how the seer has had the life of the inhabitants of the 
planets revealed to him. He says their thoughts are so lustrous 
that you can read them on their faces. He says, again, that 
they are much nobler in their mental powers than the inhabitants 
of our world, yet they are obliged to go on all-fours. This is 
the end to which we are led by this boastful prophet of a new 
order. Such stuff as this is sent out as the great new revelation 
to overturn the old. Christ is nothing, and the work of the 
Church is nothing. Men who deny the fundamentals of religion 
buy such books, and read and believe them too. There are 
large numbers who ignore the argument from design, as we call 
it, by which we infer that this world was made by an intelligent 
and holy Being. Very many of these men are not only quite 
industrious and intellectual, but some are very honest indeed; 
and you may see them go to a sandhill, take out an old piece 
of pottery, and discourse very learnedly to the effect that the 
piece of pottery indicates the existence of a pre-historic race. 
They then look upon this vast universe, with its rolling spheres 
of light in order, and see no design ; then turning to an old pot, 
swear that there is an Indian behind it. The extent to which 
men go, if they shut their eyes to the light, is surprising. The 
very light within them becomes darkness. 

You have heard me say many things in this connection since 
I have preached to you, especially since we arrived at the topic 
of Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. And, perhaps, you think 
I am rather hard on this class, but, brethren, there are no men 
with whom I sympathize more than with the man who doubts — 
none; and I will tell you why: From my earliest associations 1 
have been brought up with doubt ; I was cradled in it ; my rel- 
atives were doubters and sceptics and infidels. When I was but 
a lad I was set among about twenty of them, heard their 
teachings, and was in early life influenced by them. At last one 
of them came to his dying bed ; the first orie to be sent for 



246 Lecture XVII. 



by him was the lad into whose heart he had tried to infuse his 
own darkness. When I saw him, after he had realized that he 
was about to die, he took my hand in his, and said, "God for- 
give me, for trying to make you doubt. Pray for me;" and. 
young as I was — not more than thirteen then — I knelt before the 
sceptic, prayed as well as I could, and a day or two afterwards 
walked with those who carried him to his grave. I have seen 
young men begin by doubting and at last sink into lives of sen- 
suality and sin ; for it is an inevitable principle that incorrect 
thinking will lead to corrupt living ; it cannot be otherwise. If 
a man call error truth, and truth error, he has made a fatal 
mistake, from which he will have hard work to rise. It is no 
playing matter. Beware ! If any of you are troubled with 
doubts yourselves, remember the advice of Maurice: "Do not 
take the shadow of a superstition from any man till you have 
the substance of a faith to give him." That very superstition 
may be the only thing that keeps him to true life. Do not take 
it away, or his blood may be on your soul. If you have any 
honest doubts, go and solve them, but corrupt no one. 

After their visit to Mount Caution, they are taken by the 
shepherds to the side of a hill, where a door is opened, and are 
bade to look in. They there see the doom of hypocrites — 
those who professed themselves Christians when they were not — 
whose exemplars, the Dreamer tells us, they also saw: Judas, 
who sold his Redeemer for silver, and Ananias and Sapphira, 
who betrayed the Holy Ghost by keeping back part of the 
price. And here the Pilgrims ask these significant questions : 
' 'Did not these persons look like Christians ?" "Did they not for 
a long time keep in the way ?" "They did. " "Then how far may 
a man go in this way, and yet be lost ?" They see that there is a 
by-way to hell, and they are told that some keep in the way as 
far as these mountains, and even further. When we come to 
the last chapter, the Dreamer will show us a door to hell even 
from the gates of heaven. 

There are some Christians who know they have lost their 
spiritual life, and that they have but a name to live, while they 



The Delectable Mountains.- 247 



are dead. They may appear to be full and rich in the wealth of 
life, but strip them of the veiling flesh, and they are poor, mis- 
erable, blind and naked; they are gaunt and bony skeletons. 
You who have lost your life know well what I mean. You 
know the aching void, that the world can never fill ; you know 
the soul's longing for a retaste of what it once enjoyed ; you 
know the peace you found in prayer, and the hope in faith ; and 
now all is bitter. You feel, better than I can tell, the meaning 
of this lesson. There are some that have sold their Lord; 
there are those that have kept back part of the price, and there 
are those who have sold their birthright for a mess of pottage, 
who, for a little of this world, have given up their hope of heaven. 

From this mournful spectacle the Pilgrims are led at last to 
the mount called Clear, and here the shepherds bid them look 
through a spy-glass, to see if they can see the Celestial City. 
At the Palace Beautiful they had been promised they should 
catch a glimpse of the Celestial City at these mountains. They 
take the telescope, and look and see the gate. They see some- 
thing of a city, but all as through a glass darkly, just as in this 
world heaven must seem. 



Brethren, there are not many Mount Clears in the Christian ex- 
perience. Yet there are some. They are those seasons when we 
look through faith to the promised land, and get its picture upon 
our souls. A telescope, made of bits of glass in a tube, opens 
to us in the skies visions of worlds of beauty far away ; and so 
the heart, through the promises of God, looks forward and sees 
a holier, better world for man. The vision may not be clear, 
but something is seen, and that makes its impression upon the 
soul, whereby the thought of heaven becomes surer and more 
glorious. 

Such is our prospect, my brethren. On these Delectable 
Mountains see how much is taught ; how much is learned. Let 



248 Lecture XVII. 



us learn the terrible lessons, but let us not learn them at the 
expense of the love that teaches — 



"There is a better world, O so bright ! 
Where sin and woe are done away, O so bright! 
Where glory fills the balmy air, 
And angels with bright wings are there, 
And harps of gold and mansions fair, O so bright!" 



There is that land of perfect rest ; perfect joy ; perfect beauty ; 
perfect love ! Let us lift our eyes to the promise of God, and 
view the land that is not very far off. 



LECTURE XVIll 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 

[Synopsis of Chapter. — The shepherds ot the Delectable Mountains took leave 
of the Pilgrims by severally givinof them a note of the way, bidding them 
beware of the flatterer, of sleeping on Enchanted Ground, and by wishing 
them God speed. On their way to the Enchanted Ground they met with 
Ignorance, of the town of Conceit. In leaving him behind they entered a 
dark lane, where they saw Turnaway, who had been bound in cords by devils. 
Then Christian told of one Little Faith who had been robbed in these re- 
gions by Faint-Heart, Mistrust, and Guilt. A Flatterer enticed them from the 
way until they were caught in a net, fi-om which they were delivered by a 
Shining One. They met with Atheist, who derided them, but without effect. 
Then Hopeful related his experience for the benefit of Christian,] 



THE chapter of the Pilgrim's Progress, which I have partially 
read, is so long that, in the Lecture, as in the read- 
ing, I am obliged to omit that part which relates to Igno- 
rance. I do this with the less diffidence, because the next 
chapter is devoted chiefly to him. Accordingly, without further 
introduction, I will enter at once upon the parables here presented 
to us by Bunyan. 

The Pilgrims are now nearing the Enchanted Ground, which 
will be more particularly explained. The first parable we meet 
with refers to a character of the name of TURNAWAY. Now, 
our Lord has told us that if any man put his hand to the plow 
and look back, the same is not worthy of the kingdom of God ; 
and, again. He has taught us in one of His great parables that 
—32 



250 Lecture XVIII. 



the kingdom of heaven is like a room swept and garnished, and 
then left vacant, occupied soon after by seven devils, each 
worse than any that had been in the room before ; whereby we 
learn that to undertake and fall away, to sweep, garnish and 
leave exposed to new impurities, makes the second state worse 
than the first. Such are Christ's teachings, and such we find in 
experience. 

We have known men who began the Christian life and ran 
well for a while ; but a time came when something evil seemed 
to possess them, and they became worse than they ever were 
before they made a profession of religion. The philosophy of 
this I do not understand, and, therefore, shall not attempt to 
explain, but simply note the fact. 

We have read of a character in this book named Pliable, who 
went but a little way with Christian, and finding the way diffi- 
cult, returned. When Faithful is introduced, he informs us that 
this same Pliable, after his turning, became despised ; that men 
derided him, and chaffed him, till they made his life miserable, 
calling him renegade, and coward, and traitor to his profession. 
So this person whom Bunyan styles Turnaivay appears bound 
with cords, and thus bound, the Pilgrims see him borne away 
by the very demons he has himself admitted to his company, 
unto eternal punishment. 

What is the lesson here? What are the cords by which the 
sinner is bound ? The sinner is bound by the cords of his own 
sins. By them he is bound hand and foot, and cast into outer 
darkness, where there is weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. 
Think of it, ye careless Christians. Your deeds are making 
habits, and habits are making character, and character creates 
destiny. Certainly this is the case with men who turn their 
backs upon Christ. They begin with some small thing ; per- 
haps, at first, neglect of private prayer, or neglect of the Bible, 
or neglect of self-instruction ; or, it may be, with finding excuses 
for sin. Perhaps they neglect the public means of grace until, 
at last, they are found with those who keep not holy day, but 
walk in the paths of unrighteousness ; or they may go on ignor- 
ing their downward progress, plunging deeper into sinful 



The Enchanted Ground. • 251 

pleasure, till at last they sink into a state of indifference, and 
where they sink they perish. You know as well as I, that such 
is the natural history of sin. When the Pilgrims looked again 
upon this man whom they thought they knew, they saw written 
upon his back the words, "Wanton professor and damnable 
apostate." The real spiritual, literal fact in such a case is, that 
those words appear all over — in the flesh, in the blood, in the 
life and in the very soul of every ruined creature who sells The 
Christ. 

The next parable in the chapter represents a man trying to 
get to heaven with very little faith. He gets tired on his way, 
and lies down to rest. There is this to notice about him, he 
came from the town of Sincere ; was, in fact, quite a sincere 
man, but his misfortune was to have but little faith. Now, a 
little faith is better than none, but much faith is better than 
a little. A man with little faith will be sure to have more trouble 
than a man with a great deal. You know how much more 
embarrassment the man meets who has but little money than he 
who has much. You know how much heavier burdens appear 
to the man with little strength than to a man who is robust, mus- 
cular and strong ; and you know how many more difficulties the 
man with little learning finds, how many more knotty and 
numerous problems throng about him than another who has 
drunk deeply at what the poet calls "the Pierian spring." A 
little learning is better than none, a little money is better than 
none, and a little strength is better than utter weakness, but 
much of these is better than a little. If you have ever been 
much upon the water, you know how hard it is to ride in a little 
boat; the skiff is small, and you must sit just so, plumb in the 
middle, turning neither to one side nor the other, lest you tip 
the boat over. You hardly dare to move a muscle, or even to 
breathe hard, for fear of capsizing. On the other hand, when 
you are on a great boat, a large ship — say, one of those glorious 
monsters that plow the deep, superior to wind and tide — you 
walk the deck, you recline in the cabin, you leap and play, and 
do whatever you please to your heart's content. And as it is 



252 Lecture XVIII. 



much easier and much safer every way to cross the Atlantic in a 
big ship than a skiff, so it is far better to make the voyage 
to heaven with a great deal of faith than to attempt it with a 
little, although a little faith is better than none. Still, it be- 
hooves us to pray the apostle's prayer, "Lord, increase our 
faith." The trouble is, we are too much afraid of believing. 
There is much truth in the statement of Barnum's — not original 
with him, however — "that more men are duped by believing 
nothing than by believing too much." 

The dangers of "Little Faith" are illustrated by Bunyan in 
this way: The poor fellow is met by three brothers, Faint-Heart, 
Mistrust, and Guilt. Faint-Heart demands his purse, Mistrust 
runs up and grabs it, and Guilt knocks him down with a club. 
The idea is clearly this, that if you have but little faith it will 
manifest itself in a faint heart, in mistrusting the things pertain- 
ing to the kingdom of God, until at last you are led into actual 
guilt. This was the case with Peter; he had but little faith, 
while he thought he had a great deal, and when he was brought 
into trial he mistrusted, and finally denied his Lord and Master 
with curses. At last he was stricken down with his own guilt. 

Brethren, let us strive to get more faith. Let us believe that 
though heaven and earth shall pass away, yet not one jot or 
tittle of God's Word shall fail. And let us fully trust the Eter- 
nal Word. 

There came upon the Pilgrims a man dressed in a very white 
robe, but whose flesh proved to be very black. This person 
flattered them very much, and by this means succeeded in enti- 
cing them out of the path leading to the Celestial City into a 
by- way, and so beguiled them that they had at last turned right 
about and were again facing the City of Destruction. All this 
was accomplished by flattery. Ah, beware of flatterers. "He 
that flattereth with his lips, " says the good old Book, "layeth 
a snare for the feet of his neighbor." And yet how we like it. 

Do you not like to be flattered ? Is it not as sweet as honey 
and the honey-comb ? Who can stand it ? When one man 



The Enchanted Ground. 253 



wants to succeed with another, all he needs to do is to use a little 
flattery. It is like oil, only it goes a longer way, destroying all 
friction, and making things go so easy. How much is it used 
in business ? 

I met with a man last summer who always smiles. By the 
wav, let me whisper in your ear, beware of the perpetual smiler. 
This man was always smiling, and I have since learned that that 
smile had duped hundreds. It was fatal to all it charmed. Re- 
member that the man who flatters you is always on the lookout 
for himself. In the nature of the case it must be so, for he 
would not care to flatter you unless in his own interest. But 
the reason the Pilgrims came to fall so easy a prey to the flat- 
terer was that they had at that point left off doing their Chris- 
tian duty, and had fallen into a discussion of abstract questions 
in Theology. The circumstance of the fate of Little Faith, 
which had just appeared to them, was the occasion of their dis- 
cussion. They had fallen into theological hair-splitting. They 
began to talk and talk and talk about certain terms and condi- 
tions in which they had found themselves, and in which it 
.seemed to them Little Faith was found. They had left off doing 
their duty, to discuss abstract Theology. Now, Theology is a 
very good thing in its way, but it never ought to be allowed to 
take the place of Christian duty. It is much more divine and 
Christianlike to give a hungry man a loaf of bread than it is to 
stand in this or any other pulpit for an hour, splitting a Theo- 
logical hair. It is more Christ-like to clothe the naked than to 
prove by the Bible, or any other book, that the righteousness 
of Christ is a sufficient robe to cover an unrighteous life, or 
even a defective one. Abstractions are profitless ; they are the 
burden of schools of divinity and systems of Theology. The 
Lord Jesus Christ never bids us leave off mercy to begin dis- 
cussing this question or that, but to go on in practical good 
living until the spirit of Christ is formed in the heart. 

They were flattered out of the way, and were then chastened. 
A Shining One came to them with a whip, and scourged them. 
"Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and he scourgeth every 
one whom he receiveth. " They had been led out of the way 



254 Lecture XVIII. 



into the net ; they were brought out of that net with chastenintj. 
and again led in the way of righteousness. It would be good 
for us all if we received more chastening ; too often we need to 
be whipped to our work. 

We now come to the Enchanted Ground. As soon as the 
Pilgrims reached this part of their journey, they began to feel 
exceedingly languid, and an almost uncontrolable desire to sleep. 
They consulted with one another as to the advisability of lying 
down for repose. 

What does this mean ? It means that while the religion of 
Jesus Christ always benefits a man, his weakness is apt to per- 
vert it. We are told that there was once a man who dwelt 
among the tombs in such an outcast condition that everybody 
was afraid of him. He was possessed of demons, whose name 
was Legion. We are told that after Jesus Christ had cast out 
the demons from the man, he came out from the tombs and sat 
at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. This great 
change was due to Christ. 

There are some of you men and women here to-night, who, 
in some way, either directly, or indirectly, owe the coats and 
dresses you now wear to Christ — owe the food you eat to Christ. 
But for Christ you would be ragged and hungry. You all owe 
your enjoyments, comforts and luxuries to Christ; owe it to the 
fact that your fathers and mothers, or the society around you 
from your childhood up, were subject to Christian influences. 
You would have no music in your homes, no music in your 
souls, but for the refinement of those influences. And yet how 
often it will turn out. and how natural it appears to be. that 
when we are elevated in the social scale by the grace of Christ, 
and have reached an easier grade of circumstances, we then 
want to take our religion easy. As soon as we begin to wear 
broadcloth, we begin to feel a sneaking distaste for poor folks, 
and seek to get among the rich, refined, and cultured. We are 
tempted to call that Christianity, when in fact it is nothing more 
nor less than absolute, abominable selfishness, with not a ves- 



The Enchanted Ground. - 255 



tige of Christianity about it. Only that man is a Christian who 
does his Lord's will. Remember that he who knows his Mas- 
ter's will and does it not, the same shall be beaten with many 
stripes. You have seen such instances. Men have been lifted 
into a better state of things by the Christian religion, and then 
turn about and will have nothing to do with it — nothing prac- 
tically. 

There comes a time in the life of most Christians when they 
begin to think they ought to leave off work ; they think they 
have done enough and may take their ease. They say, "I have 
been working in the cause of Christ for many years ; I have 
held this position and that; I have given so much to the poor, 
or I have done this, that, or the other thing. Now let some one 
else take my place while I step aside and rest." 

Let me tell you, my friends, the time to quit work will never 
come. You have no right to quit. When the breath goes out 
of your body, may you, with your Lord's permission, leave off 
work in this world, and then you will leave off in this world 
only to begin in another. Never, never shall we pay all the 
debt we owe. This is the Enchanted Ground ; getting into 
those spiritual and social conditions when we think we have no 
more to do because we have done so very much, or are too 
great to work for Christ and man. 

But there is another lesson in the chapter. These Christian 
Pilgrims met with a person whose name was Atheist, who 
sought to turn them out of the way of righteousness. And I 
want to call your attention now to the arguments employed by 
the Atheist. He asked the Pilgrims whither they were going, 
and when they told him, he used a very common argument with 
his class — he laughed. When they enquired the cause of his 
laughter, he said he laughed to see them so ignorant. "To 
see," he said, "what ignorant persons you are, to go so tedious 
a journey, and yet like to have nothing for your trouble." 

This is the last time I shall have a chance during these Lectures 
to say anything about the Atheist ; I shall, therefore, speak a 



256 Lecture XVIII. 



parting word. If there are before me any of that class, let me 
say to them, in all kindness, pray do not brag of your reason, 
and of your fondness for testing everything by reason, until you 
have come to the conclusion to give up laughing at religion ; 
and when you give up laughing, I wish to remind you that the 
largest half of your argument is gone. I have never yet met 
with an Atheist — and I have met with many more than I can 
see people here to-night ; I have had as large a congregation of 
Atheists as this to preach to, and I always preach to them when 
I have a chance and my health permits ; always — I never met with 
an Atheist yet with whom ridicule was not one, and the princi- 
pal one, of his stock arguments. Shall I prove it ? Read 
Leslie Stephen, read Clifford, read Morely — in my opinion, the 
most advanced and most intelligent Atheists of the day. Some 
of you may say, we do not know them. Never mind ; take my 
word for it — the most advanced, perhaps, and most intelligent 
of their class, and yet they cannot keep this fashion of ridicule 
from their writings. Read Ingersoll, and when you have elim- 
inated the ridicule from his Lectures, what is there left? I 
frequently meet with this argument against the Bible and Chris- 
tianity: "Absurd! Nonsense! No man of thought thinks thus 
to-day. No man of any intelligence would entertain such 
opinions now. Religion is only fit for women and children — 
that's all!" I say, I meet with just such arguments as that. 
Strong arguments, you may say, perhaps, with very proper 
irony. No, they are not arguments at all, and yet they are 
aimed at some weak souls, upon whom they tell, and make 
them shrink into themselves in meekness and in fear. I say 
this to the whole school of infidels, they have no right to claim 
to be led by reason so long as they resort to ridicule. Any fool 
can laugh. Do not pretend to reason while you deride. Do 
not think it any answer to say, "Pshaw!" "Absurd!" "Non- 
sense !" for it is no answer at all. If the Christian Church is 
the monster of iniquity it is represented to be, some stronger 
weapon should be used, in the name and for the sake of man. 



The Enchanted Ground. - 257 

Then, ai^ain. another stock argument of the Atheist is, that 
he has gone all over the question of Christian evidence, and 
knows more about it than Christians themselves. This trick is 
quite popular. They say. "We have looked into these things; 
we have studied this subject ; we have sifted it all through, and 
there is nothing in it." They assume — and I can give you 
chapter and verse for it from their works, and I can quote lan- 
guage from their lips, too — they assume that they are the 
embodiment of all the knowledge on the subject. I readily grant 
that there are a number of Christians, so called, who never look 
into the question of Christian evidence at all, for all they seek is 
to be taken by the easiest stages out of hell to heaven ; that is 
all they care for. They never study the Christian religion, nor 
do they live a Christian life. There are many of them in our 
churches, and many of them all over the land, getting first-class 
seats in first-class churches, with the expectation of getting 
reserved seats at the Judgment day. And I readily grant that 
there are a number of Atheists who have given more attention 
to Christian evidence than multitudes who bear the name of 
Christian. But that, as a class, Atheists have given more atten- 
tion to the investigation of the subject than Christians, as a 
class, I absolutely and without qualification deny. And I make 
another statement — Atheists are not capable of giving more 
attention to the subject than Christians are. Again, that Athe- 
ists are not desirous of making more investigation than Chris- 
tians are. And yet another ; Christians, as a class, are more 
honest in the matter of investigation than are Atheists. And [ 
will go further and say, no attempt has yet been made to under- 
mine the Christian religion and disprove the truth of the Bible, 
but has been well answered, and more than answered ; so that 
in every crisis of the Church, as is well known to the philosophi- 
cal and historical reader, the infidel has been obliged to change 
his ground. Yet if infidelity is true, how is it that it is not the 
same thing from age to age? Christianity is the same. It 
never changes. It was love to God and man when it commenced 
— is now. and ever shall be. Infidelity is not the same, but 
day by day, and hour by hour, its votaries are obliged to 
—33 



258 Lecture XVIII. 



make concessions to us, and to give ground. If you are at all 
acquainted with the history of these matters, you will know it 
as well as I. But I hear men — who never read the Bible, nor 
any book or writing on the side of Christian evidence whatever, 
but who get an Atheistic paper once a week — say that they are 
well acquainted with Christian evidence, and it is nil. Now that 
is nonsense ; is it not ? But that is not all. Half of the infidelity 
of the day is not the result of reading, not the result of sincere 
and honest thinking, but of mere wayward captiousness. 

During the progress of these Lectures I have, perhaps, said 
some harsh things ; some that were sarcastic concerning infidelity 
in its various forms, as it has been indicated to us in the chapters 
of Bunyan. Perhaps I may seem to have spoken harshly about 
science. I have nothing to take back. I have not uttered a 
thing that I have not believed to be true, and I take back 
nothing. But why have I thus spoken? Because I love science. 
I love the truth always, and no scientific fact has ever yet been 
given to the world, and brought to my knowledge, but it has 
seemed like a gleam of light from the face of the Father to my 
soul. I love the light that science sheds ; I am glad in its wel- 
fare, and glory in its progress ; and that is the reason I would be 
merciless in my assaults upon the spirit of a science, falsely so 
called. 

Again. I love logic. I love debate, but hate assumption with 
all my heart. A thing can be reasoned out, if we reason fairly ; 
and so I have no words too scathing for the false logic so often 
applied to these questions. 

I say again, I love the truth. I would rather be with true 
things in hell than to be with false things in heaven ; and if the 
truth, as I find it, shall lead my steps to hell, I shall take those 
steps undaunted and without fear. I love the truth, and I hold 
to this position : that whatever is palpable — universally palpa- 
ble — though it may not be exactly demonstrable, is yet for all 
practical purposes true, for the mind of man cannot keep alive 
clinging to a lie. Lies are shifting sands ; the soul cannot abide 
in them. They are not germane to the spirit, for it is made for 



The Enchanted Ground. • 259 



truth. A lie will not fit to it ; the soul shakes it off, and hurls 
it away as its foe. 

Hence, I repeat, I love the truth and everything pertaining to 
it, and with all the strength of my soul I hate Atheism, because 
I believe it to be the blackest lie that ever foisted itself upon 
man. 

Then there is another reason why I think and feel as I do. I 
love man — not much, perhaps — I say it not boastingly, but I say 
it because I trust I have something of the spirit of my Master, 
who died for men. I say I love man — by that I do not mean 
abstract humanity, but man — the men and women who are nigh 
me. I do love them, sunk in sin though they may be, brutal- 
ized as they seem, they yet bear the image of God, that image 
which declares that they and we are brothers. 

And now here I throw down a challenge: If you will find me 
a message sweeter to the human ear, more elevating to the soul 
of man, than this message of the Gospel ; find me a work to do 
more ennobling than this Christian work ; find me a life humbler 
and yet more sublime than the Christian life ; here, before man 
and God, I declare that if you will find it I will give up teaching 
the Gospel and preach that message instead. I will give up 
this work I am trying to do and do that ; I will give up this life 
and take upon me the other ; find it for me, and I will' do it. I 
say this deliberately — I count the cost — show it me, and I will 
make the change to-night, or as soon as it can be revealed to 
me. 

There were six or seven hundred drunkards in this city that 
now are sober. Yet three weeks ago they were wretched, mis- 
erable drunkards. I met a drunkard's little boy some few weeks 
ago, on the street, and said I, "Johnny, will you come to Sun- 
day-school ?" He looked at his rags, and said, "Please, sir. 
papa would not like me to, looking this way." Only a week 
or two ago I saw him again, and he ran up to me eagerly, say- 
ing, "Mr. N., father says I may go to Sunday-school next 
Sunday." , 

I saw a man take the temperance pledge, and as I looked at 
his wasted and squalid form, I said to him, "Sir, your wife will 



26o Lecture XVIII. 



be glad to-night." Brushing a tear from his cheek, he repHed: 
"Ah, she will have cause to." I saw that man again, clothed 
and in his right mind, and his wife was beside him, proud and 
happy. If nothing else has been done, at least these men have 
been made sober. I do not claim it to be a perfect work — 
nothing of the kind. But what there is of it is good — very 
good. And what I want to get at now is. Who started it ? 
Did the Atheists of this city, who love truth and liberty and 
reason so much, meet together and say. What can we do for 
such men ? No, they did not. Did the professional theologians 
assemble, men who spend their time in splitting hairs and laying 
down stiff dogmas, in this form, "This is pure doctrine, and you 
must receive it or be damned;" did they meet and begin it? 
No ; they did not. But those who did begin the work were a 
few Christian men, who joined their heads and hearts and said 
to each other, Cannot we do something by our love of God and 
man, to save these poor souls from sin and misery ? And they 
thought they could, and they tried, and did it. Men are sober 
in this city to-night who were not sober then. Homes and 
wives and children are happy and bright to-night that were dark 
and wretched then. Disparage it as you may, the work is good, 
and who began it ? That's the question. It rose out of the 
very genius and spirit of the Christian religion. It was the duty 
of the Christian, and the Christian only thought to do it. And 
so I say, show me a grander work than this, and I will go and 
do it. If there is a better life to live, tell me, and I will try and 
live it. If the good old Book be untrue, prove it a lie, and I 
will take up the truth, if I can find it anywhere, and abandon the 
lie. But let us have no more to do with vain assertions or ridi- 
cule. 

Now there is a fair challenge ; will you take it ?. Ah, but 
says some one, "You won't be convinced." Why not ? "It 
is not to your interest; you are a preacher." Friend, I am as 
independent as any man living; I do not depend upon the Gos*- 
pel for my living ; I have lived hard and worked hard in ways 
that would be acknowledged so, and I can do it again, and will 
do it forever, rather than teach a lie. I am willing to sacrifice 



The Enchanted Ground. ^ 261 



whatever there may be to sacrifice in my position. Give me a 
better life, I say, and I will live it. though it cost me life itself. 
Give me a higher calling; nobler duties; a sweeter spirit than 
Christ's, if you can. But what have you to give? Nothing 
but mockery. "O you won't be convinced, you say to me, because 
you don't want to be." But, my friends, I have asked you 
to show me something to make me want to. It is not hard to 
convince a man who wants to be convinced ; and if you have 
the material to persuade, use it. You say you have truth on 
your side ; why not prove it? It would be a good thing for 
your cause to convert me. Do you say this is nonsense? I 
say the blame lies with those who provoke it. 

What has the Atheist to give a dying world when he takes 
away religion ? What will he say to the mother who buries her 
babe ; to the widow and the orphan ? What has he to say to 
the soul bowed down with grief, or in the article of death ? 
What will he say to the weak, struggling with their own weak- 
ness — that life is but a mixture of good and ill, with no real dis- 
tinction except that made by fanatics ? Will you corrupt the 
world or save it ; pour darkness on it or let in the light ; bid it 
live by faith, or cover it with the pall of infidelity ? 

This chapter teems with lessons. I would like to add another 
lecture to the series, and devote it entirely to the single subject 
of this man Hopeful's experience. Let me run hastily over it. 
We have had the experiences of Christian and Faithful ; now 
we come to the experience of Hopeful. Hopeful gives an ac- 
count of his Christian experience ; he says that he once loved 
sin, as we find we all do, for sin is pleasurable. Oh ! the dirty, 
beastly drunkard, some say ; but, hold there — he cannot be 
beastly exactly, for whoever saw a beast drunk ? Pray do not 
insult beasts like that ; for poor unfortunate man alone seeks 
pleasure in unlawful ways. But ridicule him not, for he is God's 
child and your brother. Your Savior died for him, and stands 
with longing arms to receive him to Himself. 

Well, Hopeful loved sin, and then he was moved at last by 
fear. Shall I tell you how he was convinced of his sin first of 
all ? It was by seeing the consistent life of Christian and Faith- 



262 Lecture XVIII. 



ful as they passed through Vanity Fair : it was thus they con- 
vinced him of a better Hfe than that he was leading. If you 
want to know the strongest argument you can use to lead men 
out of darkness, just let them look into a life of light as into a 
mirror, and see their own foul lives reflected back upon them- 
selves, and they will be convinced, self-convinced of sin. The 
best Christian argument in the world is the Christian life — such 
a. life perhaps as your dear old mothers led, and as many mo- 
thers now are leading. 

Hopeful was convinced by the life of Christian and Faithful. 
An awful dread of hell and judgment fell upon him, which was 
not unreasonable, for that man only has entirely lost his senses 
who has entirely lost fear. Then he set about reforming him- 
self — left off his evil practices ; but yet oppressed with dread, 
felt with a shudder that he was not saved. For reformation is 
not salvation ; reformation is not regeneration ; they are very 
different things. He argued with himself in this way : ' 'Suppose 
I should be obedient from this day to the day of my death, 
still, what is to become of my past disobedience? Suppose I 
have run into a merchant's debt, and owe a hundred pounds (or, 
as we may say here, a hundred dollars) ; and suppose I mean 
henceforth to pay as I go, still there stands the old debt against 
me, for which (as was the case in Bunyan's day) the merchant 
can cast me into prison any day he likes." Such was the rea- 
soning of Hopeful. He said to himself, "I have been trying to 
do right, and would like still to do so, but there is the old debt 
against me, and I have nothing to pay. O ! what am I to do?" 
He saw clearly that of himself he could do nothing. There was 
a gap that he could not fill, At this point he had an interview 
with Faithful, who told him that a Person had come to this 
world on purpose to take up the old debts of all those who 
would sincerely call upon Him. But said Hopeful, "I cannot 
see that." "Well," said Faithful, "go and pray with all your 
heart and soul, 'Lord, show me the Savior; reveal Thy Son to 
me.' " So Hopeful prayed over and over again, but could get 
no answer, till at last he said, ''One day when I was in the 
dumps lower than usual, thinking of my condition, I fell on my 



The Enchanted Ground. 263 

knees, and said, 'Lord, I am a guilty sinner; reveal Thy Son to 
me;' and all at once I saw The Christ who died in my stead." 
' 'Did you see Him with your bodily eyes ?" he was asked. ' 'Oh, 
no; I saw Him with the eyes of my understanding, and I saw 
that He had made that debt all right with God ; and, although I 
still owed it, I could go free through His benevolence and His 
love." It was all fear with him till the Savior came, and then 
what was the result? Said he, "My heart was filled so much 
for love of the Savior that 1 thought if I had a thousand gallons 
of blood in my body, I could shed it all for His dear sake. " 
Such was the effect of a revelation of the Savior by the Holy 
Ghost. When a man sees Christ in that fashion ; when a man 
is ready to give his very life for those for whom his Master died, 
that man has the spirit of his Master, and that man is a saved 
soul. 

Here comes home the question to you to-night: Have you 
received the Holy Ghost since you believed ? No man can truly 
say that Jesus is The Christ till He breathes the breath of the living 
Word. You may know of Him, all that teachers teach you, and 
read of Him, all that is to be read in the Bible, but unless you 
know Him as a living Spirit in your own souls, and receive that 
Spirit into your inmost being, you are none of His. Nay, 
unless you receive the spirit by which you could die for man, 
even as your Master did, and become a living sacrifice of love 
for your fellow-creatures, Christ is not within you ; you are yet 
dead in your sins. Have you the spirit of Christ ? If you have 
not, how can you be Christians? 



LECTURE XIX 



IGNORANCE, FEAR, AND TEMPORARY. 

[Synopsis of Chatter. — This chapter has but little incident. The Pilgrims 
are yet in the Enchanted Ground, and almost home. They spend their time 
in talking with and about Ignorance, who, for the nonce, is a fellow-traveler, 
and one named Temporary, whom they mutually knew in the earlier part of 
their pilgrimage.] 



THE chapter which I have partially read, and which forms the 
basis of the Lecture to-night, gives us three distinct subjects 
to speak of We have, first, religious ignorance ; secondly, the 
influence of fear in religious life ; thirdly, the moral history of a 
backslider. 

Ignorance, who is one of the spurious Christians of this Alle- 
gory, confesses that he was born in and comes from the country 
of Conceit; and, therefore, Bunyan introduces the character in 
his figurative way as connected with that quality. Bunyan was 
right, as he generally is, for ignorance and conceit usually go 
together. A conceited man is always an ignorant one ; that is. 
he is relatively ignorant. He does not know as much as he 
thinks he does, or assumes to know. An ignorant man is gen- 
erally conceited, while the man who feels that he knows nothing 
as he ought to know, is a man who knows something as he 
ought to know it. This character, in matters pertaining to reli- 
gion, is a type of a considerable class who sometimes appear to 
be in the way of righteousness; who think to themselves, and 



Ignorance, Etc. 265 



who declare to others, that they are on the way to the Celestial 
City. 

This person's conceit and ignorance combined made him care- 
less about the proper entrance into the Way of Righteousness. 
When Hopeful asked him why he had not entered by the Wicket 
Gate, he replied that it was held by men with whom he lived in 
his part of the world, that the gate was too far out of the way for 
them to think of entering it; — the meaning of which I under" 
stand to be this, that Jesus Christ is so far away from conceited 
ignorance as not to be thought of as even the beginning of the 
Way of Righteousness ; that the conceited think they can get into 
the Way of Righteousness and reach heaven, and be admitted 
there, without any reference whatever to Christ. This is as 
much as to say that a man can be a Christian, and yet need 
to know nothing of Christ. But, now, can he? 

Is there not a great deal of such loose and false theory floating 
about? Are there not a great many people who say, like Igno- 
rance, "I am a very good liver; I pay my debts; I am kind to 
all about me, and I am living in the way of righteousness; 
therefore I have no need of Christ ; or, therefore, I am a Chris- 
tian ?" Well, now, I will ask you a question or two: Can I be 
a Mason without going through the- initiatory Masonic services? 
True, I may be just as good a man as a Mason, and I believe I 
am as good as some of them ; but can I be a Mason without 
going through your services? Will you give me your grips, 
and let me know your secrets? Or, can a man be a Mahometan 
without any faith in Mahomet as the prophet of God? Can a 
man be a Mormon without any faith in Joseph Smith, Brigham 
Young, or the Book of Mormon? Absurd! you say; and yet 
it is no less absurd to claim that a man can be a Christian with- 
out Christ. Christ says, "I am the door; by Me if any man 
enter in, he shall go in and out, and find pasture. I am the 
door, and whosoever climbeth up some other way, the same is 
a thief and a robber." What is absurd in theory is impossible 
in practice. 

Again, the conceit in this character is seen in his anxiety to 
walk alone. You remember the narrative tells us that he kept a 
-34 



266 Lecture XIX. 



long way behind the Pilgrims, and when Christian and Hopeful 
spoke about his joining them, he preferred to be by himself. 
He was very happy with his own thoughts, and wanted to walk 
solitary in the way that led to the Celestial City. We find the 
counterpart of this every day upon the street — men and women 
who think themselves Christians, are desirous of walking alone, 

A Christian Church is simply a collection of men and women, 
banded together to do good, to worship God, and to love one 
another. What is a Christian out of the Church ? He is apt to 
be a man who thinks himself so strong and wise that he, at 
least, has no need to unite himself with his fellows. There are 
many like him ; men who think they are under no necessity to 
unite themselves with the Christian Church — they are above 
such dependence. 

Let us look and see if that is right Christian conduct. If you 
are a Christian man or woman, is it not your duty to fellowship 
with other men and women like-minded with yourself, that you 
may do them some good ? O, but, you may say, I cannot get 
any good myself. If you say that it shows that you have not 
the Christian spirit, and I say it advisedly, you are not a Chris- 
tian. The man who says, I won't joint a church because I can- 
not get any good from doing so, is not a Christian. 

Perhaps another says, I wish to join the church in order that 
I may do some good. Now he is a Christian, for that is the 
Spirit of the Master, who being rich, for our sakes became poor 
and went through the bitterest of all poverty, that we might ex- 
change our rags for robes of righteousness. A man who 
thinks he can stand apart from all human sympathy and make a 
church of himself, and a pastor of himself, and all the machinery 
of good works of himself, is an qgregious embodiment of con- 
ceit. 

Here was a compound of ignorance and conceit in this 
character. They finally get him into conversation, and 
his conversation illustrates first, that he was ignorant of 
himself. They ask him his reason for believing that he was 
a Christian, and what do you think he said? Why, that "He 
found he was full of good emotions, which came into his 



Ignorance, Etc. » 267 



heart as he walked, in this way," and when they asked, what 
good emotions, he repHed, "I think of God and heaven. " Well, 
now, that is a good thought, to think of God and heaven ; per- 
haps you say we think of God and heaven, but as Christian 
evidence it is equivocal ; the very devils in hell — the spirits of 
the damned, think of God and heaven. That poor girl who died 
in her shame the other day, and whose shame helped to pay the 
city's taxes, thought of God and heaven. The worst men and 
the worst women in this or any other community, think of God 
and heaven. Thought merely does not make a Christian. This 
man thought it did. But while good men may think of God 
and heaven, so may bad men. 

He went a step further ; he also said he had a desire for God 
and heaven. A remark that many may make who are never 
likely to see their desires accomplished. The soul of the slug- 
gard desireth and hath nothing. You may desire — I presume 
we all desire to be happy. We have read of heaven, and long 
to be there ; and hope by some means or other we may get 
there ; we greatly desire that, but it does not make us Chris- 
tians. The worst creatures in the world desire God and heaven. 
Let a farmer desire a crop ; that does not produce it. Some of 
us, perhaps, desire to do the Paris exposition next year, but 
only desiring does not take us there. It may be one step ; we 
may desire and then determine to go ; but some of us may not 
after all wish to undertake the long and tedious journey ; so that 
we may desire and still be unwilling to go. And so a man may 
desire heaven and yet not be in the way thither, or take the 
trouble to go. 

Another thing : this man was ignorant of his own heart, inas- 
much as he trusted it. Here is a man who, in his self-conceit, 
was trusting to his own heart ; but the Bible says — and it is not 
true because the Bible says so, the Bible says so because it is 
true — "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked who can know it," — fathom its deceitfulness ? Such 
passages were quoted to this man, but of course he resented 
them. He said his heart, at least, was not deceitful ; his heart 
was as good as the heart of a converted man, with a right to a 



268 Lecture XIX. 



hope of heaven. Now you may be just so far along as to say 
you have very great comfort in your soul in thinking of and de- 
siring eternal joys and God and heaven. Your heart may tell 
you these flattering tales, but the heart's language is not to be 
trusted. Ask my fellow if I be a thief? Ask the heart to con- 
demn itself, and I do not think it will. 

My brethren, there is one person in this world whom we do 
not know very well. We may know our next door neighbors, 
our children, relatives, and friends ; we may know those with 
whom we do business ; but there is one person of all the world 
whom we do not know — and that is ourself We do not know 
what we are capable of until we are plunged into a train of cir- 
cumstances where we are liable to sin. We do not know what 
is locked up in our souls. A terrible volcano in our hearts may 
at any time belch forth flame and smoke and death. The heart 
is like a magazine of powder ; there the deadly mixture may lie 
from year to year in quiet, but lay a train and touch a match, 
and watch the fire leap along, and hear the explosion, where 
silence has reigned for years. What man has done in the way 
of depravity, man may do. Men who have been blessed all 
their lives, have suddenly sunk to the lowest depths. Man 
must not trust his heart, for out of it proceed bad thoughts and 
salacious desires. All the wickedness of this world has come 
from the human heart ; and, I repeat, what man has done, man 
may do ; and he that trusteth his own heart, is a fool. What 
man is capable of, may well make us tremble. 

We do not know ourselves, and for this reason : we are not 
honest with ourselves ; we each of us have an ideal self before 
our minds. We know what we ought to be, and we know what 
we think we are ; but what we really are, we are not willing to 
admit. To call ourselves by our own right names, is a thing we 
are unwilling to do. Why, here is a man who cheats in busi- 
ness ; keeps back the truth and deceives. What is his name ? 
Let him whom he has cheated answer. His name is Liar. I do 
not care by what other name men may call him, his name is 
Liar; for a man's name is given to him by his character. So it 
used to be in the old Bible times. It many be thought it is not 



Ignorance, Etc. 269 



so now, but when you find a man who sins in any way, that sin 
is certain to give him his true name — the name he will have to 
face to all eternity. This man trusted his heart, ignorant of 
what his heart was. He thought his heart was all right, and he 
said he had good thoughts, and then added that he lived a life 
according to the commandments. 

A man must be exceedingly ignorant when he says that. 
Perhaps we have not broken all of the commandments, but we 
are pretty sure to have broken some. There is one I can think of 
which I am very apt to neglect, and another I am very apt to break. 
We are all creatures of temptation. I am tempted, perhaps, in 
a direction you are not, but who dares say, "I have kept all of 
the commandments?" You cannot say it literally. Take the 
simple question of obedience in all things. What saith the 
Book, and not only that, but all nature, in calm, in storm, 
mountain, sea and river? The whole universe re-echoes — 
"Cursed is the man that continueth not in all things that are 
written in the Book to do them." When a man, then, says he 
keeps the law of God, and that he follows a life entirely in 
accordance with His commandments, that man is absolutely igno- 
rant of himself, for there is no man that does it. If there is, I 
should like to see him. I never have seen him, and neither have 
you. The fact is so notorious, that I ask no excuse for saying 
that you do not keep them. It is a fact ; you do not, nor have 
you done it, and I question whether there may not be a doubt 
in your heart of hearts as to you possibly desiring it. Sins are 
sweet; exceedingly sweet. This is a world of sin, and it is 
unfashionable to be unwordly. 

In the second place, the man was ignorant of the plan of sal- 
vation. To begin with, he fell into the fundamental error of 
separating religious from all other kinds of life. For instance, 
when he is asked this question: "How do you believe in Christ 
for justification?" he says, "I have an idea it is Christ who 
makes my duties acceptable to His Father, by virtue of His 
merit, and so I shall be justified." You see the idea in this 
ignorant person's mind. It was his duty, he thought, to perform 
certain religious service, which Christ would make acceptable to 



270 Lecture XIX. 



God; for instance, worship, prayer, praise, in any and all their 
forms. It was his duty, he thought, to offer such service. 
You see, he separated religion from life. That is a very common 
mistake. It is very easy to be Christians on Sunday, but an- 
other thing to be Christians on Saturday night and Monday 
morning, and all the week through. Religion covers a man's 
life ; a man's religion is his life, and a man's life his religion. 
Let us look at this. 

Men will be judged by deeds done in the body, whether they 
be good or bad. That is the statement of Scripture. What 
deeds? His religious deeds? Let us look at the Judgment, 
and apply the statement. Suppose we hear Christ say to those 
on His right hand, "Come, ye blessed of My Father; you went 
to church on Sunday and heard sermons, and you went to prayer- 
meeting once a week, and some of you went to Sabbath-school, 
and some of you did not; you attended sewing-societies, and 
had tea-meetings, and festivals, and bazaars; you have done all 
these things, so now come." And suppose Him saying to the 
others, "Depart from Me, ye cursed, for you did not go to 
church, nor to prayer-meeting, and you did not attend to reli- 
gious duties. Depart. But as to these others, they were 
religious, so come, ye blessed." 

You know very well Christ will say nothing of the kind. 
What has He said? You shall be judged by the deeds done in 
the body, whatever they are. Come, ye blessed of My Father, 
for on Monday morning you saw a child hungry and fed it; on 
Tuesday, you found a poor widow with her children, sitting 
alone in her desolate house, and you brought relief; on Wed- 
nesday, you went to the prison and visited the prisoners ; on 
Thursday, you saw a man sick, and alleviated his sufferings ; on 
Saturday, you repeated yourself as best you could ; and on 
Sunday, you went to the house of God, and praised Him, and 
got fresh heart and grace to sustain you in another week. 
Therefore, come, ye blessed of My Father, and inherit the 
kingdom prepared for you." And to the others He will say, 
"Oh, you went to church, you went to prayer-meeting, and you 
thought yourselves the very cream of creation ; you were too 



Ignorance, Etc. 271 



good to touch the rags of the poor, and moved in too high 
society to visit prisoners; you forgot that you were human, and 
you forgot that you need to be saved yourselves ; you forgot 
Me — My claims, too; so depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire. " 
And, I tell you, they will go right down to it. Some of you 
smile, but what are you, you who smile, doing for the poor? 
What are you doing for God's children who are living and dying 
in their sins? Are you doing anything? You think God will 
accept your religious service performed on Sundays with no in- 
convenience, but God will not do so. Do not be deceived ; God 
is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also 
reap. If he sow to his flesh, he will of that reap corruption ; 
but if he sow to his spirit, the spirit of self-denial, for God's and 
man's sake, he will of that spirit reap everlasting life. 

But this person was also ignorant of the working of Christ 
within him. Christ, indeed, has done a work outside of us, in 
His life and in His death, and this man's idea was that Christ justified 
his actions. There is that word justification, the key-note of 
the Reformation, and oh, how terribly it is perverted! It does 
not mean to-day what Luther meant and what Bunyan meant ; 
it has become nothing more or less than a hollow fiction. That 
man is justified whose heart is just, and men are justified be- 
cause faith transforms them through the One, and to the One, in 
whom they believe. Our evil actions are not justified; our 
spirits are justified. A man has to believe in Christ, and is 
justified through believing. I say this person was ignorant of 
the working of Christ within him. What work does Christ do ? 
Paul puts it beautifully: "I live, yet not I, but Christ within 
me. It pleased God to reveal His Son in me. God forbid I 
should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom 
the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world. I live, 
but my life is hid with Christ in God ; Christ is in me the hope 
of glory. " That is the working of Christ within us; Christ 
formed in our hearts by faith, with unfeigned love to all the 
brethren. But this man knew nothing of it. My friends, do 
you see your counterpart in him? Are you ignorant of your- 
selves, ignorant of God, ignorant of Christ, and of the work of 



2/2 Lecture XIX. 



Christ within you ? Do not be conceited. The best men are 
humble ; the wisest are lowly. Trust not your own heart, for 
he who does is a fool. Trust only that true Word, which can 
never fail. Heaven and earth may pass, but the Word of God 
abideth forever. Rest your souls upon that. Trust every 
promise that God has made, and you will live forever and for- 
ever. 

Now we come to another branch of the subject, and that is 
the power of fear. We see fear manifested early in Christian 
life, and a picture of it we find here in the lesson. We have all 
known men who, but for a hell to escape from, would not think 
of going to heaven ; men and women are so afraid of that, they 
have no blush when they say that they would not think of 
heaven but for the fear of hell. And while that is all very well 
in one just beginning a Christian life, it argues little progress 
and low experience in the Pilgrimage. Yet fear has its use, 
else God would not have implanted it. You cannot find a man 
who does not fear ; it is a principle in all our souls, and there 
are times and cases when it is the only motive to which the Gos- 
pel can appeal for a man's salvation. 

Let us consider this a little. There is a wrong fear and a 
right fear. How is the latter caused ? A man feels that he is 
a sinner, and, when he feels that, he dreads the consequences — 
for what are they ? The wages of sin is death, and the soul 
that sinneth shall die, and whatsoever a man soweth shall he 
reap. That is the reply of nature as well as revelation, and no 
amount of philosophy can alter it. We cannot alter the eternal 
facts of this universe. It has been proven by the life and proven 
by the death of every sinner, that those awful words are true. 
It brings death and all the train of woes. I suppose we need 
not say a word more on that point. Now when a man is con- 
vinced that he has sinned, I say he dreads the consequences — 
he must do so, and it is a very mean soul, indeed, that does not 
fear the consequence of sin, for it cannot be magnified. 

Then right fear, rising from conviction of sin, drives the soul 
to lay hold on salvation. Suppose we were at sea to-night, and 
a storm should rise, and the ship be threatened with destruction, 



Ignorance, Etc. . 273 



and we were in a condition to be sensible of the danger ; but 
suppose there was one too deeply sunk in drunken stupor to be 
conscious of the peril. The captain cries, "Leap into the life- 
boat." We all who are moved by fear obey, but he who is too 
insensible lingers behind, and sinks with the doomed vessel. In 
olden times, when men slew others unintentionally, a hue and 
cry followed, to take vengeance on the destroyer ; so, to give 
the unfortunate a chance for life, cities of refuge were built, 
where, when the fugitive knew the slayer was upon his track, he 
could take refuge and be saved. What man who has sinned 
and feels that he has sinned, does not ask the all-important 
question. What shall I do to be saved ? And if God has not 
provided an answer to that question, then God has mocked us. 
But God has made provision, and Christ is set before us, the 
sinner's hope and Saviour ; and we are told that He saveth to 
the uttermost all who go to God through Him. So, then, this 
right fear not only leads the soul to lay hold on Christ for refuge, 
but fear abides with that soul, to keep the continual presence of 
the Savior in it. 

Do you mean to say that Christians have fear ? Yes, I do ; 
and the best Christians have most fear ; not, indeed, a slavish, 
selfish feeling, but a fear of offending God. We fear lest we 
should fall ; we fear that after we have preached to others, we 
may ourselves be castaway — not a fear of punishment, but we 
are moved by fear to our salvation ; a fear to grieve the great 
and good Being who has manifested His love by saving us from 
death. Yes, Christians are moved by fear, for God has given 
his Son, his only and best beloved, that great sacrifice. And 
when we see men living unworthily, we see that gift rejected, 
we see that Savior again stretched upon the cross ; and when 
Christians look on sin, they must view it with trembling and 
with fear. Hence we are told the fear of the Lord is the begin- 
ning of wisdom. The fear of the Lord is also the continuance 
of it. This is right fear, and the effect of it on the soul is whole- 
some and salutary. 



-35 



74 . Lecture XIX. 



I know of no better expression of this sense of fear than in 
the immortal verse of Binney: — 

"Eternal light! eternal light! 

How pure the soul must be, 
When placed within Thy searching sight 
It shrinks not, but with calm delight 

Can live, and look on Thee ! 

"The spirits that surround Thy throne 

May bear the burning bliss ; 
But that is surely theirs alone, 
Since they have never, never known 

A fallen world like this. 

"Oh! how shall I, whose native sphere 

Is dark, whose mind is dim. 
Before the ineffable appear. 
And on my naked spirit bear 

That uncreated beam ? 

' 'There is a way for man to rise 
To that sublime abode : — 
An offering and a sacrifice, 
A Holy Spirit's energies. 
An Advocate with God: — 

' 'These, these prepare us for the sight 
Of holiness above: 
The Sons of Ignorance and Night 
May dwell in the Eternal Light 
Through the Eternal Love!" 

Of the wrong kind of fear we see examples when we come 
to the history of backsliders. In our own day we see created 
by our church systems a large number of spurious Christians. 
At periods of revival encouraged by the Church, we have men 
and women who are converted at every one. Ever since they 



Ignorance, Etc. 275 



were boys and girls, on to old age, at every revival, they are 
converted. There are many who put off the subject of conver- 
sion to times of revival ; and I say our systems do encourage 
and create this ephemeral class of believers. We have seen 
men making a profession of religion, and a very loud one, and 
a very encouraging profession, too ; and by-and-by turn back. 
These examples were not wanting in Paul's time: "Ye did run 
well; what did hinder you?" Bunyan introduces one, whom 
he calls Temporary, who dwelt in the town of Graceless, next 
door to one Turnback. What is the philosophy of the Allegory 
here ? How is it that these men get what we call religion, and 
in a very short time turn back, and are apparently worse men 
than before — how is it ? Bunyan has told us. We will merely 
give his thoughts without repeating the language. He says, in 
these men, conscience is awakened to think a good deal about 
the punishment of sin, that punishment is preached in very 
vivid colors, and men tremble in view of the consequences of 
their conduct, so that their consciences become, as it is called, 
awakened; for they are awakened as if out of deep slumber. 
Does that awakening make a Christian ? Certainly not. We 
see that these did not become Christians ; or, did not remain so. 
Why not? Simply because to make a Christian a man's mind 
and soul must both be changed. Awakening does not — the fear 
of hell does not make Christians, but change of heart ; and 
hence Christ told Nicodemus, who knew so much that was 
good ; o know is not enough ; you must be born again ; your 
heart, your life, must be changed. This is what we preach. 
For instance : A murderer stands in the dock. He has heard 
his trial ; the evidence is against him ; the jury find him guilty ; 
and when the judge puts on the black cap, he sees his doom and 
trembles. He is simply awakened to a sense of his condition ; 
his awakening does not prove a change of heart or disposition, 
for though he trembles, society would protest against his being 
let loose again, on the ground of his sense of his condition. So, 
when man faces the consequences of sin, he may tremble and 
yet not be cured of sin. The Master says he must be changed : 
"Except ye be converted and become as little children ye shall 



2/6 Lecture XIX, 



in no wise enter tiie kingdom of heaven." To whom did he 
say that ? He said it to his disciples. And he said to the wise 
Nicodemus, "You must lead a new life ; you must have a new- 
birth." What does that mean? The wind bloweth where it 
listeth, and ye hear the sound thereof, yet cannot tell whence it 
Cometh or whither it goeth ; even so with this new birth. All 
birth is mysterious, whether physical or spiritual ; but the fact 
of life no one can gainsay. Though Christ has thus spoken, and 
though we see the absolute necessity of the case, men shrink 
back and say, ' 'why should I pass through this change of heart ? 
Is it not hard in God to impose such conditions?" My friends, 
it is for your sake — not for his. He is no hard and cruel Mas- 
ter. There is no other way ; you must be born again. 

Thus far we have considered the backsliding of new converts, 
but we have also in this lesson examples of another kind : back- 
sliders, who, for a long time, have lived the Christian life, and 
then fallen away. Do men fall from grace ? Bunyan thought so. 
But you say, I thought Bunyan was a Calvinist, and believed in 
the perseverance of the saints. Well, I met a man a while ago, 
and he was drunk ; he happened to be in my church one Sun- 
day morning, and as he met me the following week, said, in 
thick-tongued speech, "Mr. N. , — hie — I agree with you en- 
tirely ; I am so glad you believe in — hie — election ; I was 
— hie — elected seventeen years ago." "Well," said I, "you 
have not kept your trust, have you?" "But," said he, "1 be- 
lieve in the perseverance of the saints ; — hie — you know that's 
part of the Calvinistic system." "All right," said I, "but you 
seem somehow to have gotten out of the system." Now, here 
was a man who believed in the perseverance of the saints, and 
yet was walking after the flesh. There are some who do not 
believe in men going back, and some who do. Some make pro- 
vision for it in their church schedules, and others make none at 
all. But it is not a matter of theology or ecclesiasticism, but a 
matter of fact. 

My friends, what do you say ? Some of you know you have 
gone back. Vou have a name to live while j^ou are dead. You 
know very well you have lost something. Ah, my friends, 



Ignorance. Etc. 277 



these are awful, terrible matters, and it seems to me God alone 
can understand them. 

Let us look further into the moral history of backsliding. 
How does it begin ? We have here its genesis. First, they 
draw off their thoughts from God and Judgment. Yes, all 
backsliding begins from that. First distinct thoughts, then a 
habit, and at length a confirmed character. They first draw off 
their thoughts from the remembrance of God ; God is no longer 
in all their thoughts, until they get so far as to say. Well, after 
all, there will be no Judgment such as that described in the 
Scriptures. Ah, my friends, I know it — it will be ten thousand 
times more dreadful than language can describe ; and we are 
preparing ourselves for the Judgment to-night. 

Then they cast off the fetters of private duty. I suppose I 
need hardly trace these steps — they are only too well known. 
Secret prayer is neglected ; nobody hears in the closet ; nobody 
knows anything about that. Christ says nothing about praying 
in public, but He .says when thou prayest enter into thy closet 
and pray to thy Father, who seeth in secret. Do you think I 
pray out of the inmost heart in the public congregation ? Do 
you pray your best here when you bow your heads so reverently? 
Possibly you may, but the sad fact is, that in public not much 
true prayer is made. No ; men pray at home, and when they 
are alone, if they pray at all. The backslider begins by neglect- 
ing private prayer; then forgets to curb his lust; forgets to be 
watchful. Yet to be watchful is the Christian's duty, and not 
to see how near he can come to temptation without yielding, 
but to keep out of the way of it. Sorrow for sin soon ceases 
with backsliders, and they become dead Christians. We know 
how true that is, for half of our churches are filled with dead 
Christians ; not buried, but we shall all be buried by and by. 
Decay begins at the root, and at last appears above ground. 
After habitual neglect of private duty, we see then, perhaps, 
excuses for open vice, and it may be on the ground — a very 
specious one — of a want of perfection in professed Christians. 
How perfection in the Christian church can be expected, I can 
not for my life understand. That creatures endowed with reason 



278 . Lecture XIX. 



should pretend to expect it, is the greatest puzzle to me imagin- 
able — if it were not for the sophistry of self-deception. Well, 
after this, they will begin associating publicly with the carnal 
and wanton ; with men whose talk is salacious ; possibly men who 
stand at the corners of the streets and think themselves manly 
in saying beastly things of women who pass by. Young men, 
you know what I mean, some of you ; I need not say another 
word. They begin with little sins in secret ; then excuse them 
openly ; and at last sink right down in the uncovered sloughs of 
vice. Such is Bunyan's genesis of the backslider. How far do 
you think it is true? How far have you gone in the awful 
course? "Ye did run well; what did hinder you?" Has not 
the hindrance been in your own selves? It began in your own 
soul ; began where religion is vital ; began where your Christian 
life was secret, dark, and hid from men ; where all moral decay 
commences. It is not by neglect of public means of grace that 
the downfall of the Christian commences. He begins to die from 
within. Such is the sad story of the professor of religion who 
has turned his back upon his Savior. 

Look over the theme again. Men are lost because they are 
ignorant. Men are lost because they are hardened, and do not 
fear. Men are lost because they allow sin to enter into their 
most secret souls. 

And now, my friends, can I say another word to bring you to 
a better life — to the life of a living Christian ? Every plant has 
a root which must strike into the soil and send down its little 
tendrils deep into the fertile moisture, to bring up the elements 
of its nature. The plant must go down in the earth after its 
flowers, and fruit, and seed ; the roots must be right, if the plant 
would be thriving. It is what your secret lives are, that make or 
mar you. What kind of men and women are you when you 
think yourselves alone, and when you are in the presence only 
of your Maker — when you unlock your heart and look it over 
as you might perhaps a drawer, to take account of what is in it ? 

My friends, if I may give advice, do not think of your public 
religious life; let that be a secondary matter. No professing 
Christian has need to wait and calculate whether he shall do a 



Ignorance, Etc. 279 



good act or not. No, let the good deed come out quick and 
hot, like bread from an oven. It is this secret life that is impor- 
tant. What are you in secret, where men have no chance to 
watch you ; when you are hid from all other eyes but God's ? 
What are you in your heart of hearts, where God requires wis- 
dom and truth ? What are you there ? Are you men — the men 
you profess to be — the men you think you are ? Or, do you 
find that you deceive yourselves ? Brothers and sisters, do not 
deceive yourselves. Be honest, be true, and before your God 
above all things. Know yourselves, and having learned to know 
yourselves, seek further to know the Lord Jesus Christ. 

"Oh Thou pure light of souls that love, 
True joy of every human breast. 
Sower of life's immortal seed, 
Our Saviour and Redeemer blest. 

"Be Thou our guide, be Thou our goal, 
Be Thou our pathway to the skies, 
Our joy, when sorrow fills the soul, 
In death our everlasting prize." 



LECTURE XX. 



THE CELESTIAL CITY. 

[Synopsis of Chapter.— The dangers of the Eachauted Ground are safely 
passed, and the Pilgrims are now in the Land of Beiilah, where the birds 
sing and flowers bloona all the day, and where they every moment get more 
perlect views of the Celestial City. Between themselves and the city is a 
In-idgeless river. Across it was the way to their destination. In the stream 
Christian had much difficulty, while Hopeful went through with ease. On 
the other side they were met by two shining inhabitants of the city. These 
escorted them to the gates thereot. Here an innumerable host met them, 
and gave them royal welcome. As they entered the gate they were trans- 
ligured,'aud had raiment put on that shone like gold. Harps and crowns 
were given them. Ignorance soon got over the river. He boldly asked ad- 
mission at the gate ; but when his certificate was demanded, he had none. 
Two shining ones, at the command of the King, had him away. The 
Dreamer saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as 
well as from the City of Destruction. So he awoke, and behold, it was a 
dream ! ] 



TN APPROACHING the last lecture of this series, one thing 
X has deeply impressed my mind ; a very simple thought, yet 
very important, and when rightly looked at, a solemn one : all 
things must end. Some five months ago, on a wet Sabbath eve- 
ning, to less than an ordinary congregation, we began the expo- 
sition of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. It is a grateful reflection 
that during this time we have all been preserved in health and 
strength, and not one, I think, who heard me on the first occa- 
sion, or in the earlier portion of the lectures, has suffered any 
severe or painful illness — not one has died. P'or such blessings 



The Celestial City. 28 1 



we ought to be thankful, and I feel extremely so to-night. I 
hope you will indulge me in these personal remarks. I pre- 
sume the reason why my thoughts dwell so earnestly at this 
time upon a truth so common, is, that these Pilgrims who to 
some may seem, as they did to me, mere visionary creations, 
have come to appear to me like real persons, and T feel to-night 
as if I were about to part with old friends. It is truly said that 
there are thoughts too deep for tears ; let this express my feel- 
ings, as I bring before you now the closing scene of this most 
remarkable Pilgrimage. 

From the beginning we have had this end in view ; each of us, 
no doubt, expecting such a triumphant ending as the Immortal 
Dreamer has portrayed. Every end should be worth looking 
forward to and working for. Let me bid you, my friends, ask 
yourselves, each one. Am I working towards a designed end — 
is the end for which I am living worth living for ? The questions 
you ask. you alone can answer. If you answer yes, it is well ; 
if you cannot answer yes, if you cannot positively say it is your 
deepest conviction that the end for which you live is a worthy 
one, you had better at once begin a new life ; seek a nobler end, 
for life is nothing of itself; the end alone can give it dignity and 
worthiness. The student applies himself at school or college, 
wears himself almost to a skeleton, to make of himself a pro- 
found scholar ; a man toils from morning until midnight, with 
scarcely any rest, that the end of his days may be free from toil, 
bowered in comfort and repose. We call these both worthy 
ends. But the end in this life sought for should be a worthy 
beginning of another, for it ought not to be forgotten, that 
every end is also a beginning. The corn grown last year 
you eat, then in various forms deposit in the earth again ; and 
so the end of last year's harvest becomes the beginning of the 
present year's crop. In like manner the end of this life is the 
beginning of eternity, and just what our lives here have been, 
they must also be in the world to come. 

In this closing scene, Bunyan describes death as a river. A 
very old-fashioned, very familiar idea, and one which men have 
wrought into their literature in all time. The Jew, the Chris- 
-36 



282 Lecture XX. 

tian, and the heathen, the ignorant and the learned, have all of 
them portrayed death as a river through which all must pass. 
But before they came to the river they reached a border land, 
which is called by Bunyan, Beulah. This word means married ; 
Hs Scriptural use alludes to the fond union between a longing 
Church and a loving Savior. It is taken from the fervid apos- 
trophe of the old prophet to his people, ' 'Thou shalt no more 
be termed forsaken, neither shall thy land any more be called 
desolate, but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beu- 
lah ; for the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be mar- 
ried, " the verse closing, "as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the 
bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee." The idea of the 
application of the term here, is, that just before the Pilgrims 
come to the stream of death in the border land, they enter into 
a close union with God and heaven, so that while still on earth 
gleams of the glory from the Immortal Grounds just beyond, 
shine into their hearts warm with a growing sense of the Sa- 
vior's love ; therefore the land is called Beulah. There the Pil- 
grims have many a rich experience; and the further they go the 
richer their experiences become. 

We are to take Christian and Hopeful as types of ordinary 
followers of Christ, living out the allotted term of life in the 
ordinary way. The story has furnished types of the extraor- 
dinary ; one, for instance, died a martyr's death. But these two 
have lived to a ripe old age in righteousness, and we picture 
them grey and venerable, just on the threshold of the house 
with many mansions, waiting for the Master's call. Flowers 
burst into their noblest bloom just before their fall. Fruit 
becomes more rich and tempting as the gathering draws nigh. 
So, too, we see aged Christians — dear old souls, whose faces 
are just like children's, and whose thoughts are just as inno- 
cent — looking back upon lives well spent, waiting cheerfully for 
death ; expecting, like good children, a Father's loving arms 
soon to bear them home. 

P^very Christian who lives to good old age, may expect that 
his later hours will be more full of comfort than those of the 
beginning or middle of his course. When I first came to this 



The Celestial City. 283 

— . -1 

country, people asked, Have you any Indian Summer in England ? 
Oh, no, I replied, we have no such season there. Well, then, 
they said, you have no weather there. And I have since thought 
perhaps they were correct, for certainly I have never seen any 
season to compare with the rich, soft glory of the Indian Sum- 
mer. I wondered what it could be that everbody had so much 
to say about, till one still autumn morning I rose to find a mel- 
low halo over the earth, and as, in quiet ecstacy, I drank in the 
golden blessedness, it seemed that a part of heaven itself had 
clothed the earth. Like that the aged Christian's life may be. 
After the toils of life, a halo from the skies drops over him an 
Indian Summer of the soul. 

These Pilgrims had the remembrance of past bitterness to 
sweeten triumph. You remember that the elder one, when he 
set forth, had to tear himself from home, wife and children ; 
then he fell into a slough ; next, astray, he found himself under 
the threatenings of Sinai ; further on, he encountered the Hill of 
Difficulty ; afterwards, fought with Appolyon, passed through 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, struggled through Vanity 
Fair, pined in the Giant's dungeon, and, lastly, writhed in the 
hideous toils of the Deceiver. Many a time his heart had failed 
him, when Hope's promise seemed withdrawn and the Celestial 
City too far away. We have seen days begin with clouds and 
end in sunshine ; we have seen other days begin in brightness, 
then choke up with clouds, and at last close in golden glory. 
So it is in life. It is only when the sun sets in the midst of 
clouds that its setting is most beautiful ; for, as the apostle said, 
"These light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for 
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 

But in that lovely border-land, besides the rich fruits of which 
they partook on every hand, the Pilgrims encountered a still 
more rare and curious experience. Instead of resting satisfied 
in the midst of such delights, they became afflicted with a divine 
longing and heartsick desire for Christ, crying out, in the lan- 
guage of the Song of Songs, "If you see my Beloved, tell 
Him I am sick of love." We all know what homesickness 
means ; or, when loved ones are absent, with what yearning we 



284 Lecture XX. 



await their return, or our return to them. So I have known 
Christians and, perhaps, you have too, who seemed really reluc- 
tant to linger, waiting for the Master to call them home. They 
longed to depart and be with Christ. 

"And whence this weariness. 

This gathering cloud of gloom ? 
Whence this dull weight of loneliness. 

These greedy cravings for the tomb? 
These greedier cravings for the hopes that lie 
Beyond the tomb, beyond the things that die, 
Beyond the smiles and joys that come and go. 
Fevering the spirit with their fitful flow. 
Beyond the circle w^here their shadows fall ; 
Within the region where my God is all. 

"It is not that the path 

Is rough and perilous, beset with foes 
From the first step down to its weary close. 
Strewn with the flint, the briar and the thorn 
That wound my limbs, and cleave my raiment torn ; 
But I am homesick ! 

"It is not that this earth 

Has grown less bright and fair ; that these grey hills, 
These ever-lapsing, ever-lulling rills, 
And these breeze-haunted woods, that ocean clear, 
Have now become less beautiful, less dear ; 
But I am homesick !" 

Now, friends, if this be a true Christian experience, and it is, 
let me ask you one question : Will the course of life you are 
pursuing make you sick with longing to die — will it? I cannot 
answer the question ; you must. Suppose you should live to 
grow old, will the life you now live, if lived as long as your 
physical strength will endure, give you this sickness — will it? 
When life has no more charms ; when earthly appetites and 
senses are decaying, and when there seems at last nothing more 



The Celestial City. 285 

to live for, will that condition be as unlikely as it seems to-day? 
That I cannot answer. I put to you the question. Answer ye? 
Now, turning our attention to the Pilgrims in the River of 
Death, one peculiar fact attracts our attention. There is an idea 
entertained by nearly every one that Christians all die happily, 
and worldly men all die miserably. The general prevalence of 
this opinion I need not attempt to prove, for it is sufficiently well 
known. Whenever a man dies, the first question that arises in 
connection with the news of his death is, Did he die happily ? 
According to the manner of the person's death is the opinion of 
that person's religious condition. When a noted man of the 
world passes away, people are anxious to obtain news as to the 
manner of his death ; the mental and spiritual condition of his 
last moments. If it appears that he died in mental distress or 
gloom, the fact is published as very significant of the state of his 
soul. On the other hand. Christians have a morbid interest in 
the condition of dying Christians, watch for their last words, 
treasure them, and publish them to the world as very important 
evidence of the genuineness of their faith. If it should happen 
that a Christian dies, and gives no sign of cheerful hope or con- 
fidence as to his future, we are apt to think that there must be 
something secret and hidden in the life of that individual, which 
caused the failure of the expected evidence. I wish to-night to 
explode that idea. I would like to drive it from your hearts 
and minds forever. I want to bring to your attention the fact 
that some Christians die in intense misery, and, on the other 
hand, some unbelievers, infidels and Atheists die as cheerfully 
and contentedly as men can wish. You may say that is hardly 
orthodox, but never mind ; orthodox or not, it is too true — 
and that is the worst of it. I say there are some Christians who 
die miserably, and there are some sinners who die happily. 
There was a man who committed a foul murder, some two or 
three years ago. That murder was but the natural result of the 
sort of life he had led ; and when he came to meet his sentence, 
he walked to the scaffold and mounted to his fate without the 
quiver of a nerve or the twitch of a muscle — died calmly, posi- 
tively calm. Some of the worst men that have ever lived have 



286 Lecture XX. 

died with the utmost coolness, and with a joke freezing on their 
icy Hps. On the other hand, many a Christian has shrunk from 
death ; shuddered on its approach, shivered in its embraces, and 
been afraid to meet it. I wish you to learn that the manner of 
a man's death does not reflect the piety or impiety of his life, 
and gives no clue whatever to his destiny in eternity. 

We frequently hear the expression, "Let me die the death of 
the righteous, and let my last end be like His." Certainly, take 
the old text and weave it into your prayers, if you will, but take 
it with all its true conditions. Do not pervert it. Don't pray 
this way. Let me die so as to save my miserable, little, selfish 
soul, by dying the death of the righteous. Let me so shape 
my last end as to save my poor, sordid heart from the powers 
of hell, by imitating the manner of the death of the righteous. 
That is what is generally the secret meaning of the expression 
in its perversion. Remember this, that no unrighteous man, 
however he may have appeared, has ever really died the death 
of the righteous. Remember this, that no ungodly man has 
ever really died the death of the godly ; and, therefore, whether 
the prevalent feeling of the righteous man's death be miserable 
or happy, it is best to die the death of the righteous. The cir- 
cumstances and seeming of the death-bed have nothing what- 
ever to do with its real character. Man is not to be judged by 
the way he dies, but by the way he lives ; not by his struggles 
in the waves of the dark river, but by the manly steadfastness, 
perseverance, energy and patience he has maintained in the 
way of righteousness. No one of you is going to be saved be- 
cause of a chance smile on your lips in dying ; but if you are 
saved at all, it will be only with the spirit of the Lord Jesus 
Christ in your heart. 

Let us now turn to the chapter and take Bunyan's testimony 
on this point, for whatever you may think of me, Bunyan at 
least you will believe, for he is orthodox ; you will take him, I 
know, on this question ; and what does he say ? You see how 
he describes the last hours of Christian, our first, eldest, original 
Pilgrim in this story ; the man who fought so many noble fights 
of faith ; the man whom every one of us would like to emulate, 



The Celestial City. 287 



and to whose worthiness we would all like to attain. Watch his 
conduct in the flood of death. We are told that as they ap- 
proached the stream they learned that it was deep, and that it 
had no bridge. As they passed in they were stunned at the 
sight. There are special moments in life, my friends, when we 
are all given a realization of the solemnity of death ; when our 
children disappear, or our parents, brothers, or sisters are taken 
away ; or when the hearse stands at a neighbor's door ; it may 
be while a whole city is draped in mourning, and a whole nation 
halts to weep at a loss universally lamented. At such times we 
get in our minds a glimpse of the same awful river, the sight of 
which stunned these Pilgrims. 

Before that stream we all stand alike ; we know not exactly 
when, we only know the time is sure to come to each, when 
we, too. must descend into the dark tide. And again, we know 
each must meet those waves alone. The hope, confidence and 
comfort of others can go with us only in memory ; none can die 
with us ; alone we must pass through the deep and bridgeless 
river. The time set for that lonely passage God only knows ; 
but we know that it must come. Fair maiden, the bloom on 
your bright cheek must fade; your lovely form must moulder away. 
Strong young man, a mightier wrestler, a more accomplished 
athlete, will yet throw thee, nor hast thou any skill to compete 
with him. Wise man, thou hast no science to evade him. Rich 
man, thou has no gold to bribe him. Good man, he will not 
spare thee. Bad man, thou too must fall before him. Frivo- 
lous man, he will touch thee with his fateful wand, and freeze 
on thy face thy idiotic grin in death. We must all die, and die 
alone. And it is well for us now and then to catch a glimpse of 
the river. 

As to our Pilgrims ; their experiences varied in life, and it 
would not be strange if in death they also varied. All Chris- 
tian experiences do. When they came to the river, he whose 
toils and sorrows we have followed longest, began to despond, 
because he could see no way of escape. But they addressed 
themselves to the water, and as they entered, Christian began to 
sink — it was not easy for him to die — and he cried out, *T sink 



Lecture XX, 



in deep waters ; the billows go over my head ; all the waves go 
over me. " Again he says, "The sorrows of death compass me 
round about ; I shall not live to see the land that floweth with 
milk and honey." And with that a great darkness and horror 
fell upon him. so that he could not see before him. In a great 
measure he lost his senses, and was troubled about the sins he 
had committed, both since and before he became a Pilgrim, and 
appeared haunted by all sorts of wild fancies, apparitions of 
hobgoblins and spirits of evil, about which he raved in his 
misery. Nothing his companion could say seemed to encourage 
him. He felt that each soul's experience was its own, and 
therefore his reply to the cheerful suggestion of Hopeful, de- 
scribing what to him appeared to be awaiting them, was, "No, 
no ; all that is for you, and you only. You have a right to be 
hopeful ; but, ah ! if I were to be saved, too, my Savior would 
come to me now; but, on account of my sins. He has led me 
into this snare, and left me." Then replied Hopeful, in the 
significant language of an old Bible text respecting the wicked, 
reminding Christian that he had quite forgotten it, "There are 
no bands in their death but their strength is firm ; they are not 
troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men." 
So Hopeful tried to assure Christian that his troubles and dis- 
tresses in the river were no sign whatever that God had forgotten 
such real evidence as had been afforded by the sincerity of his 
life, or that his Savior would forsake a true and faithful follower. 
This is the important truth that I wish to impress on you : It is 
not your experience in death, but the manner of your life, 
that must save you ; not the way you die, but the way you live ; 
not what you feel, but what you do — that gives you entrance to 
the better world. The mode of death is mainly a matter of 
temperament, as we see illustrated next in the experience of 
Hopeful; for while Christian was sinking. Hopeful said, "I feel 
the bottom, and it is good." He had such an abundance of 
confidence that he overflowed in help to his companion. In his 
buoyant frame of mind the promises of God were recalled, and 
while Christian quoted texts of despair only. Hopeful responded, 
"Be of good cheer; Jesus Christ maketh you whole. " Such 



The Celestial City. 289 



hope at last proved infectious, so that Christian, in reply, broke 
out in a loud voice, saying, "I see Him now, and He tells me, 
'When thou passest through the water, I will be with thee ; and 
through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.' " And then 
they both took courage ; and after that the enemy — that is, Fear 
— was as still as a stone until they were gone over. 

This, however, is not the end of the description, for we are 
told that, upon the bank of the river on the other side, there 
came to the river two shining ones, whose acquaintance had 
already been made in the Border-land, by whom they were led 
toward the gate. Meanwhile, the Dreamer also saw Ignorance 
draw near to the river, who, with the aid of a ferryman named 
Vain Hope, crossed without any trouble whatever — thus illus- 
trating the text quoted by Hopeful, to the effect that those 
whose lives afford no ground for hope, may yet in death fail to 
be troubled like other men. , 

How is such a phenomenon to be accounted for? 

As I have said, the mode of death is much a matter of tem- 
perament. But there is a further explanation to be found in 
the various degrees of refinement of the moral senses ; for as all 
special senses are capable of special culture, so it is possible to 
educate the conscience to an extreme delicacy. You know you 
can refine the painter's sense of beauty, till the daub that tickled 
the fancy of his boyhood gives his mature taste positive dis- 
pleasure. You know, too, the ear of a musician may be so 
refined that thumps and knocks, which to the uneducated ear 
may seem melodious, will strike his skilled nerve with actual 
pain. In the same way, the conscience of a Christian enters 
upon a progressive course of refined distinctions, till what was 
at first rude enough, at last attains a conception so exalted of 
the contrast between the heart and its ideal, as to inspire a 
horror of death. So Christians may shrink from death because 
of an extreme refinement of conscience, while duller souls pass 
through unfearing. 

Now, beyond the River of Death, I am sorry there exists no 
detailed record, for there is this peculiarity in the Bible, that it 
enters into no particulars, but lays down only a few general 
—37 



290 Lecture XX. 

principles, leaving each to work out the problem for himself. 
Still faith does not leave us without a glimpse, such as that em- 
bodied in the close of Bunyan's dream. He says that the 
Pilgrims, aided by the two shining ones, helping them by 
the arm, mounted the hill toward the city, going up sweetly 
talking ; and that as they drew toward the gate, a company of 
the heavenly host came out to meet them, to whom they were 
introduced by their conductors, whereupon the host gave a great 
shout, crying, "Blessed are they who are called to the marriage 
supper of the Lamb." So Lazarus, from the rich man's gate, 
where men loathed him and dogs licked his sores, was lifted to 
Abraham's bosom. An abundant entrance was given to the 
Pilgrims. Perhaps some of you may have seen the triumphal 
procession of a king or conqueror : heralds go before ; the city 
is filled with banners ; flowers strew the way ; eager throngs 
press round, and, as the hero draws nigh, the air throbs with 
peals of welcome. Such, we may suppose, is a very faint type of 
the honors given to these Pilgrims. We are told that they were 
met by choirs in shining dress, who hailed them with sweet 
instruments and voices ; and as the throng drew near the gate, 
the Pilgrims looked up and read inscribed above it, in letters of 
gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they 
may have right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through 
the gates into the city." 

Do you see it, my friends? Blessed are they who do His 
commandments. But some one says, I thought we were going 
to heaven through Jesus Christ? So you are, if you go at all ; 
through keeping Jesus Christ's commandments. That is the 
only way. There it is, over the gate : "Blessed are they who 
do His commandments." Oh! but you say. That is a hard way 
to heaven. Very well ; it is the only way ; and I know nothing 
worth having, that is not hard to get. We all know how hard 
it is to get gold ; how hard to get a home ; how hard to get 
knowledge ; how hard to get anything worth having. Is heaven 
worth having? They only will get there who do Christ's com- 
mandments. Is there no way out of this ? 1 will tell you what 
the Master himself says, "If ye keep my commandments, ye 



The Celestial City. 2gt 

shall abide in my love." "Take my yoke upon you." But you 
say, That is too heavy. Christ says, "My yoke is easy and my 
burden is light." You only need to put your neck into the 
yoke, and it is done. Work in it. His commandments are not 
grievous ; they are full of comfort. But there is the inscription 
right over the gate of heaven : ' 'None enter here but those who 
keep the commandments." 

Then the Pilgrims were transfigured ; they went into the river 
clad in mortal flesh ; this robing they left behind them, and the 
new raiment they put on shone like gold. Those who met them 
gave them harps and crowns — the harps for praise, and the 
crowns in honor. Then, says the Dreamer, I heard all the bells 
in the city ring again for joy, and it was said to them, "Enter 
ye into the joy of our Lord," and I heard also the men them- 
selves, saying, "Blessing and honor and glory and power be 
unto Him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for- 
ever and ever." And as the gates opened the city shone like 
the sun, and the throng wore crowns on their heads and bore 
palms and harps, and some of them had wings, and they chanted 
as they did fly. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." 

We Christians on earth had better be careful how we treat our 
fellows. When the poor drunkard rises from his slough of sin, 
they sing to him that song of triumph ; and though we say, 
"Why, he was never worth much," God only knows, and, alas, 
God only cares, for men do not care for their brethren ; while 
we reproach them, God forgives them, and heaven is glad when 
they repent, and angels chant their welcome home. Ah, if 
Christ's spirit were ours we might receive sinners into our 
churches as God receives them into heaven with joy. 

When the Pilgrims were transfigured, the Dreamer tells us, 
and they had passed in, the gates were shut ; which, he says, 
when I had seen, I wished myself among them. And so do 
we. We wish to be among the holy and happy in the eternal 
glory. Do you not ? But wishing alone will not take take you 
there. There needs something else. If the prodigal, when far 
from home, had been content with wishing to arise and go to 
his Father, that wish would not have taken him. It was only 



292 Lecture XX. 

when he said, "I will arise and go to my Father," that he came 
to his Father. 

In my old parish I gave a course of lectures on the Pilgrim's 
Progress — not these exactly, but I dare say something like them 
— and in my congregation was a lad who was quite simple, too 
simple to work, too simple to get an education, but he began 
with Christian, starting from the City of Destruction, and fol- 
lowed him intently all the way through. Several times during 
the course he spoke to me and asked if I thought it was pos- 
sible to get that man "through." And I remember he would sit 
listening with all attention, as I unfolded the steps of the Pro- 
gress. I was very glad to be able to preach so that he could 
understand, for he seemed to do so. When we had finished the 
last lecture, he stood upon the steps outside the church, and as 
I came out took me by the hand and said, "I say, we got 
him through — didn't we get him through?" He walked all the 
way home with me, and to everybody he met said, "We got 
him through." As he was telling it the next day, I said, 
"William, when are you going to be a Pilgrim?" That 
silenced him. Now, I dare say, few of you would like to be 
told that you are simple, but all rather pride yourselves on be- 
ing able to listen to a course of lectures on the Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress with intelligent interest, and so human and vital is the story 
that perhaps to-night you are sighing with a sense of relief, and 
ready to whisper to one another. Well, we have got him through. 
But, friends, what about getting yourselves through ? Have 
you yet to become pilgrims ? We have been warning you of 
the dangers of sin, and have been telling you something of the 
strife of godly living; we have been trying to bring you to the 
Cross and under the teachings of the Holy Spirit, and at last, 
to-night, we have led you to the brink of death's deep, bridge- 
less river. We have followed the Pilgrims home, and now 
what about yourselves ? Are you Pilgrims ? Some of you 
may say. Well, I am not religious, and don't expect to 
be. My friends, you will bear me witness that I have never 
preached to you about being religious, but I have been preach- 
ing to you about being righteous through faith in Christ. Is 



The Celestial City. 293 

there nothing in your Hves that you condemn ? Do you not 
feel that there is some need to make your peace with God ? Are 
you living the sort of life you ought to live, or are you sensible 
of defection and failure ? You cannot get through safely unless 
you live the right life, and I do not care how you die, if you do 
but live well. God does not care how you die if you live well ; 
you will die right if you live right. Now will you begin to live 
right ? 

Then, says Bunyan, I awoke and behold it was a dream. But 
dreams after all are never as good as reality. We wake from a 
frightful dream, and are thankful that it is not real ; we wake 
from a pleasant dream, and wish that it were true. But some- 
times in life we meet things much more delightful than the 
brightest dream could depict or the liveliest fancy portray. And 
so, brethren, there are in the Christian life, from beginning to 
end, things better, nobler, richer, and dearer than in this dream. 
As the Scripture says, There are things that the eye hath not 
seen and the ear hath not heard, and which have not en- 
tered into the heart of man to conceive — things known only to 
the Spirit, and spoken in the sacred recesses of the soul by the 
Spirit that searcheth all things ; yea, the deep things of God. 

Will you be Pilgrims? Reading Bunyan's story will not 
make you one. Looking through a railway guide does not make 
you a traveler ; poring over a dictionary does not make you 
eloquent ; mere reading and wishing cannot make Pilgrims of 
you. The only way to become a Pilgrim is this, start from the 
City of Destruction ; go to the Wicket Gate ; go to Him who 
says, "I am the door." Go to the Lord Jesus Christ, and in 
your prayers tell Him that you are sinful, and ask Him for for- 
giveness ; ask Him to sustain you in the way of righteousness ; 
and in this way only may God help you to be a Pilgrim. 

" 'Twas not a vision of my sleep nor dream that fancy paints; 
It was a view of heaven itself, the dwelling place ot saints; 
It was the glory of the Lord, the Spirit hath revealed, 
The final happiness of those that God the Father sealed, — 
This was the sight from which I woke, and looked and looked again, 
And though their pilgrimage was o'er, I yet was on the plain; 



294 Lecture XX. 



And in the rugged wilderness I looked and sighed in prayer, 
'O God, complete my pilgrimage, conduct me safely there!'" 

Fellow Pili^^rim, earnestly press that petition. "Safely there !" 
in the land of holiness, of joyfulness, of perfection, of beauty, 
free from care, temptation, sin, sorrow, and death. "Safely 
there ! " in the Paradise of God, where are the many mansions, and 
where sorrow and sighing are done away. ' 'Safely there !" where 
Jesus is, and the spirits of just men, made perfect with glowing 
seraphim and cherubim, praise Him forever. "Safely there!" in 
otir eternal home ; cyn/s by Jesus' grace; o/frs by the sacrifice of 
Christ ; oi^rs by the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts. ' 'Safeh' 
there!" after we have one by one crossed the river; O God, 
most Merciful, God most True, may we be found! 



ADDENDUM 

[Kefer to p. ;i8. ] 



A SCHOOLMATE of mine lately committed murder. He 
was a foremost man in a church. He was nearly fifty years 
of age. Through thirty years he had suffered from an unhappy 
marriage. God knows what his trials had been. But the man 
was sane. He was in health. Not a whisper has been raised 
in his defense, although he is to be tried for his life in a few 
weeks. Coming home from an evening gatheiing, his wife and he 
passed into their house together, apparently at peace with each 
other. Half an hour later, when she was asleep, the monster 
with an axe took his wife's life. 

Do not avert your gaze, my friends, from this lurid point of 
light. The narrative is of a piece with much else that has 
actually happened in the nights and days of our softly rolling 
globe ; and yet you say it is not philosophy. I affirm that 
events like these are facts, and that philosophy must face facts 
of every description, or once for all cease to call itself scientific. 
This piercing gleam out of experience is blue fire, indeed ; but 
not a little radiance of that sort has crept before now through 
the volcanic crevices of the world. When by this ominous but 
actual lamp you gaze intently upon the glitter of this axe, and 
upon the_^flashing of the afterward dripping blood, you will find 
that many problems as to the peace of the soul are here exposed 
to view, under a flame intense enough to permit their scientific 
examination. 

Both these persons were my schoolmates. I knew each of 
them well, and think I have some reason to say that I under- 



296 Addendum. 



stand what, probably, the whole interior sky was in this man. 
One of the things that proved his guilt, aside from his confession, 
which he made at the end of a week, was a remark which 
he curiously enough repeated to his neighbors months before 
his crime: "Can I not repent, even if I do a great wrong, and 
so repent as to go to heaven? Is it not taught that a man 
may repent and be saved, although he does something very 
bad?" This man was not well educated. He had in his mind 
the query, whether one might not commit some atrocity, and 
yet repent, and by the good grace of the Almighty God, who is 
of too pure eyes to behold iniquity, be saved though the Atone- 
ment? 

This man, befogged, but not insane, took up the theory — this 
was proved before the jury — that he might commit murder, 
and yet afterward repent, and go to heaven. And he committed 
murder; and I think his chief temptation, aside from vexatious 
married life, was that lie whispered to him out of the very bowels 
of Gehenna, that the Atonement is enough to save a man who 
makes a bargain of it, and tries to cheat God. That man did 
on a large scale what it is possible you and I have been trying 
to do on a small scale. We do not commit murder; but we 
would, if we had our own way, very gladly cheat God of half 
our lives at least, because we remember that we can repent at 
last, and all will come out well. Some men think that, if they 
repent after they go out of this life, all will be well: that is 
rather a large application of this principle. 

" Okthodoxy," by Joseph Cook. Lecture V., pp. 141, 142, 143. 



FINIS. 



